In Nomine Dei
by Diatharna Thoron
Summary: Alvira, a Knight of the Temple of God, travels to Boletaria to aid the kingdom after receiving news of the demon's siege from an unknown traveler. Rated M for dark themes and graphic depictions of violence.
1. Prologue: The Revival of the Soul Arts

The Nexus sits in a void, suspended within time and space, separate from the world of the living. Here, the Monumentals have presided, holding together the fabric of reality since the first scourge of the Old One, awakened by mortals using Soul Arts.

Rampant and hungry for the souls of the living, the Old One had unleashed a near unstoppable force of soul-stealing demons to feed an insatiable hunger that ultimately could not be quenched. A thick fog enveloped the land as the once lively and robust countries turned to smoldering ruin, leaving no-one left to maintain them.

The Old One's demons stole the souls of everyone in their wake. Those who survived their onslaughts were driven mad with a want that was not understood, wreaking havoc on the sane and inadvertently assisting the demons to their own ends. As the Old One and its demons devoured souls, the more powerful they became. There was not a force alive that could match their strength and animosity. All seemed lost.

Then arose many strong and capable heroes. They united together, and through their power, the Old One's demons were defeated. The Old One itself was laid to sleep beneath the veils of the Nexus. But though the battle had been won, it had come at a high price: all the souls lost to the Old One and its demons were irretrievable, and half of the world now lay submerged beneath the deep, colorless fog, forever lost.

The warriors that survived the battle with the Old One became Monumentals, half-living sentinels of the fabric of reality. The Monumentals banned the use of Soul Arts to prevent the Old One from awakening again.

Even after the Old One had been lain to slumber, the effects of its awakening did not go unnoticed. Time and space began to tear, and oddities were seen around the globe. People recalled seeing others from different times before their very eyes, only for them to shimmer away into a silver mist a short time later. The souls of the slain not taken by the Old One wavered in and out of the planes of the living and the dead, though very few interacted with or noticed their bewildered, living onlookers. Odd weather patterns were noted: it would snow in the middle of summer, or a violent tornado would crash through an unsuspecting farmer's field during a sunny, cloudless day.

People soon found that there were weak spots in the dimensions in which others would seem to slip through and never return. Some went mad, their eyes glazed over, spouting nonsense of a void and a god within that could "save the world." One such man went on a violent tirade, attacking the sane and swearing that he had been to the void and seen this god, saying that He must awaken. He then abruptly slit his own throat, ending his life.

The Monumentals came together once more, harnessing their power to repair the damage that the Old One had inflicted upon the world. Slowly the earth was mended, and these strange phenomena ceased.

As time went on and generations passed, the terror and ruin wrought by the Old One faded from consciousness, as did the heroic actions of the Monumentals, even as they continued to weave the fabric of space and time into continuous balance. The Monumentals' dedication to the mortal race of men never wavered even as they were forgotten.

* * *

Many ages passed through the world in peace and harmony. The Soul Arts were a distant memory scarcely recalled, but for a morose king wholly pessimistic in the views of his kingdom. King Allant XII of Boletaria was a successful ruler in every sense. His military might was yet to be matched, the kingdom was rich and trade was booming, and Boletaria's citizens were happy. They worshipped and revered the king as a god among men. Yet still he felt empty; he wanted more for his kingdom... and for himself.

The Old King began sifting through Boletaria's vast libraries in search of answers. For years his search yielded nothing, and in this time the king became more frustrated and cynical as he was not getting any younger. However, one fateful morning, as the king was perusing the upper shelves near the back of the library, his hand brushed against an ancient tome. He gingerly opened the book, carefully turning each page, mindful to keep them in place as many of them were loose and broken. As his eyes scanned the pages, he grinned to himself. This may have been exactly what he was looking for all along.

He swiftly returned to his throne room, ordering his guards to close the doors and to not allow for any visitors. He sat on his throne, book in hand, and began to slowly read through the pages. Minutes turned to hours; hours turned to days. It was only until one of his guards sought him out that he realized he had not eaten or slept since he had returned from the library. But now he knew everything that he needed to know. As he rose from his throne, book in hand, and followed his guard out of the throne room to his private chambers, a world of possibilities swirled in his head. He had found the key that would make his kingdom the greatest the world had ever known and ever would be. They would be powerful beyond comprehension, and he, by extension, a king among kings. No… a god among kings.

As the Old King lay himself down for the night, machinations of his new empire churning in his mind, he felt content for the first time in decades. He reached over to his bedside table and patted the old tome lovingly before turning over, muttering quietly before falling into a deep, restful slumber.

"_Soul Arts…_"


	2. Of Demons and Men

Alvira sat alone on second floor of the Nexus, eyes transfixed on the demon's soul floating eerily above her ethereal hands. Her armored feet dangled precariously off the edge, but she paid no mind to how high above the bottom floor she was. It mattered not if she fell, for she was already dead. She was a soul without a body, encased in her cold, silver armor, no longer physically feeling. She had been bound to the Nexus by the Monumental the first time she had died. It was not true immortality, for she could still be killed, but the binding would assure that her soul was not taken and that she could keep fighting. So that she could keep collecting souls.

The chaotic energy dancing in front of her eyes bespoke an immense power, and that power called to her, whispering promises of yet more to come…

She knew those promises to be true. The creature she had fought to obtain this soul had been a mighty one. It was known as the Phalanx. She recalled its grotesque form: a large, gelatinous, blob-like entity with a brightly glowing core. It had many smaller likenesses of itself surrounding it, guarding its body with heavy shields. Each of the smaller ones were armed with spears, making approaching the thing for a close combat assault a difficult task. The lead demon also held a massive, spiked spear used for scraping and destroying armor. There was no way that she could get in close to find any weaknesses without being shredded to pieces. Using her bow proved equally fruitless as her arrows simply bounced off their shields; the few that did manage to bypass their defenses had little effect.

It had all seemed hopeless. The demon was immune to everything in her arsenal. It was slowly encroaching upon her, backing her into a corner. She held up her halberd in a defensive position and squeezed the handle tight. Then, all at once, a group of spears thrust forward towards her, forcing her to evade to the side at the last moment. They impacted with the wall, knocking one of the torches loose. It rolled towards the Phalanx and the creature noticeably recoiled from it until it sputtered and died on the ground.

_Of course!_ Alvira thought to herself. _Fire! Why had I not thought of that before?_

She hastily foraged around in her pocket and produced a small oil casc capped with a cloth plug. Then she grabbed one of the nearby torches off the wall, lit the casc, and hurled it in the direction of the demon. It hit its mark and set the demon's grunts ablaze. Many of them scattered and some altogether dissolved into a murky puddle. _Eureka! _Now she had exposed a weakness in the demon's guard and knew how to adequately deal with the thing. Only now she had upset the demon and it was advancing upon her with a gurgling hiss.

Alvira yanked her bow out of its sling, pulled another oil casc from her pocket, and began ripping small strips of cloth from her armor. She swiftly and expertly wrapped the pieces of cloth around the tips of her arrows and dipped them in the casc. Using the torch she had collected earlier, she lit the arrows and began to pelt the Phalanx's unprotected flesh. Still the creature continued to charge mindlessly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was being burned alive. It made an odd, purling sound and threw its spear in Alvira's direction, missing only by a hair as she loosed her last shot into the very core of the demon's body. A bright light flashed, and the demon began to shriek; Alvira closed her eyes and clutched her ears as the sound of the demon's dying cry pierced them. An explosion of fire erupted, sending her flying backwards into a pillar as the demon writhed its last frantic throes before finally dying in a brilliant flash of white.

Once she was finally able to stand again, Alvira walked unsteadily over to the charred remnants of the Phalanx's corpse. Inside a light still burned brightly, and she felt somehow drawn to it. She reached for it but halted when the light snaked towards her and coalesced in her palm, its gleaming a stark contrast to the now blackened corridor. Not knowing what to do next, she returned to the Nexus.

She was still looking into the soul of the demon when the sound of light footsteps shook her out of her reminiscing. Behind her stood the Maiden in Black, lighting a candle above her own head. She paused to gaze down towards Alvira, though she saw nothing. The Maiden was a short, frail woman, wrapped in a strange silken black cloth. Her ink-black hair flowed down to her upper back and was tied haphazardly into a half-braid. However, her strangest feature was her eyes: they were blocked with wax and sewn tightly shut for good measure, making her completely unseeing. Yet when the Maiden looked at her, she felt that she could not only see her, but within her… through her. Despite it all, Alvira found that her presence was oddly comforting, like that of a mother.

Alvira looked back down towards the soul and frowned. It flickered brightly in her hands as she stroked it. Its evil essence unnerved her.

"Thou hast questions," the Maiden spoke softly in her strange, foreign accent.

"Yes," Alvira replied, holding the soul in one hand and rising to her feet. Her voice echoed softly around her as it was no longer contained by her form. She offered the soul to the Maiden, hoping that she would be able to tell what it was.

"I feel a change in me," Alvira began. "I hear whispers, but not in my head. I feel them… in my soul. In my very being. But the whispers are not mine."

The Maiden in Black cocked her head. "Thou hast slain the living and the demons they protect. The souls of the dead now dwell in thee."

Alvira shivered. "Why must I gather these souls? Why can I not simply set them free?"

"If thou dost not take them, the Old One will," the Maiden replied sadly. "Come now. Come closer."

Alvira did as told, and the Maiden bade her kneel before her. The Maiden gently placed a hand on her head and dropped her staff to the side. A gentle, silent wind seemed to encircle them as she began to speak:

_Soul of the mind, key to life's ether._

_Soul of the lost, withdrawn from its vessel._

_Let strength be granted, so the world might be mended._

_So the world might be mended…_

The demon's soul that Alvira had been holding out to the Maiden began to shimmer and fade. She felt both body and soul being invigorated, becoming stronger, as she lost herself in the Maiden's slow chanting. Alvira closed her eyes and savored the feeling. As the soul of the demon imbibed her, she felt her physical senses returning. Slowly she began to breathe again, and her heart started a slow and steady rhythm inside her chest. She could feel once more the cloth, leather, and plate that made up her armor. She opened her eyes again and clenched and unclenched her fist, relishing in the return of her flesh and silently thanking God for the blessing of body once more.

After a short time, the Maiden withdrew her hand, and the rush of power that she had felt left with it. She did, however, feel another change within herself. She felt stronger. More capable. The warrior grabbed the halberd that had been laying at her side and rose. She looked to the Maiden again, and in her upturned palm she held a faintly shining crystal dangling from a thin, flaxen thread. The woman was offering this to her, Alvira realized, and she gingerly took the odd ornament from her hand, studying it carefully. It was a very dark green, almost black, and the light within was dim. There seemed to be nothing particularly special about it. Alvira looked to the Maiden skeptically, and, sensing the question that had not yet passed her lips, she answered, "A house for thine souls, and to guide thee when all has become dark."

Understanding, Alvira nodded and tied the augite to her belt, and without another word to the Maiden, turned away with determined strides.

* * *

Ostrava dipped into a destroyed archway still covering a small portion of the open bridge leading up to Boletaria's keep. He was out of breath and quickly running out of energy. It felt like he had been running for hours. Luck seemed to be on his side, though; it looked as if he had finally given the drake the slip. The flying monstrosity was nowhere to be seen.

He sunk down to his knees and let his ornamental sword and shield hit the pavement with a quiet _ting_. He feared to stay in one place for long, lest more of the soul-starved come chasing after him. The whole time he'd been in Boletaria since his return had been nothing but running for his life from madmen and demons alike.

"What has happened to my beloved Boletaria? My home?" he breathed into his palm. But he didn't have time to lament for long; the roaring of the drake could be heard up in the sky and soon the large beast landed behind him, greeting him with an ear-shattering wail. Ostrava cried out in horror as the drake let loose a volley of fire from its maw, just missing him as he dove off to the side. He quickly got to his feet, grabbed his sword and shield, and ran down the bridge away from the drake. It knocked down the remnants of the stone archway in its pursuit, leaving fire in its wake as it chased the steel-clad knight, easily keeping pace with him.

* * *

"God, help me!" Alvira heard a voice yelling in the near distance as she dislodged her halberd from the back of a dead soldier. She hurried towards the voice, barely dodging obstacles as she passed them to reach the source of distress. When she arrived, she found a man trapped between a giant red drake and a wall of wooden barricades. Alvira frantically shifted her eyes from left to right, and to her relief, found a staircase leading up to the top of the archway above the drake.

She pounded up the stairs, unlatching the bow from its sling as she went. When she got to the top, the drake reared its head up, ready to breathe another wave of fire at the defenseless knight. Her arrow was ready and aimed at the drake's head. She heard the knight scream just as the drake opened its mouth to release. Yet it was not fire that spewed from its jaws, but a pain-filled shriek. The arrow that Alvira let loose had hit the drake directly in the eye. The beast clawed at the arrow with its hind leg, whirling around in a frenzy and shattering the wooden barricades with its spiked tail. It spewed fire angrily into the sky as it took flight, gliding crookedly as it disappeared beyond a nearby hill.

Alvira ran back down the stairs to the knight, now lying face down in a pile of planks and shattered wood. He rose to his arms and knees, shaking his head slightly as if he could not believe that he was still alive. She reached down to help the knight stand and eventually he was able to balance himself against the wall for support.

"Thank you," the knight said breathlessly. "I would not have made it had you not assisted me."

Alvira nodded. "Are you going to be all right?" she asked concernedly.

"I will manage." He finally found the strength to stand up straight and examined the woman closely. Her armor was plated and polished silver and had an intricate gold carving of a tree surrounded by runes on the breastplate. Her helmet's visor completely hid her face, save for some very inconspicuous eye sockets near its crown, which flared out in the shape of a tree and was decorated thusly with carved leaves and branches. Rich, blue velvet cloth trimmed with silver flowed from her waistline and covered her legs, although the cloth had been unfortunately torn in many places. Her legs were protected with heavy silver greaves adorned with gold carvings similar to her breastplate. Ostrava also noted that she was fairly short, the top of her head only managing to reach the bottom of his chin.

After taking a moment to reconcile himself, Ostrava held out his hand, offering it to her. "My name is Ostrava," he said. "And you are…?"

Alvira returned the gesture and shook the knight's hand. "My name is Alvira. I'm a Temple Knight of the Church."

"A Temple Knight?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I am a demon slayer," she replied. "I could ask you the very same. There aren't many sane folk out this way."

Ostrava fidgeted slightly and bowed his head, unable to keep eye contact with her any longer. "Let us just say that I am looking for someone and leave it at that," he murmured.

"As you wish. I wouldn't want to pry in your business."

Ostrava eyed the bridge where the drake had been trailing him warily. He noted the charred remains of soldiers and blockades churning enough smoke up into the sky to make seeing across to the other side difficult. The drake had single-handedly wiped out any resistance he would have faced on this bridge's side, and thanks to this demon slayer, the creature had not done him in.

_I should be safe for a while, at least_, he thought to himself. Then, a shaky sigh escaped him as he conjured images of what lied in wait ahead. He briefly considered asking the woman if she would allow him to accompany her. Ostrava knew he was not much of a fighter himself. Having a traveling companion would dramatically improve the odds of his success.

He was startled out of his thoughts at the sound of shifting wood and the clanking of armor as Alvira started to turn away. "Wait!" he shouted, a bit too loudly. He felt his face turn red and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. _Thank God for this helmet…_

Alvira turned back to Ostrava and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

All was quiet for a moment as Ostrava contemplated what he would say next. On one hand, having a traveling companion would be useful, and this woman clearly knew how to fight. However, on the other hand, would he be able to trust her with the task that he was undertaking? He had only just met her, and he had his doubts. Perhaps she would not take him seriously, or worse, she would take advantage of his weakness. _No_, he determined. _She may have saved me, but I cannot have the expectation that this would work. I am being naïve._

"I merely wanted to wish you the best of luck on your journey before you depart," he said at last to break the uncomfortable silence that was settling around them. "May God be with you." He put his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes. "Umbasa."

Alvira beamed and returned the gesture, slightly bowing to him as she did so. "Umbasa."

Yet, as Alvira turned and continued on her way, Ostrava began to have second thoughts.


	3. An Unlikely Alliance

All was eerily quiet as Ostrava made his way up the Boletarian Bridge, save for the racket of carrion birds whilst they feasted greedily upon the flesh of the dead. He took in the sights around him: below he could see directly into Taedmorden, a small village beneath Boletaria proper, built snuggly into the valley at the base of Esvern Rise: Boletaria's mountain range. As he studied the once cozy village, he found, to his dismay, buildings torn asunder, farmland burned, and large piles of wreckage where important monuments once stood. It appeared the demons had gotten there long ago as not a soul stirred in the once thriving village and trade post. An ominous fog had settled around the battered landscape, giving it a ghostly glow.

He clenched his sword and shield tightly in his hands, a rage and knightly pride building inside of him that he hadn't known he possessed. His mind wandered to the innocents; to all the women and children, to all the modest farmers, smiths, and miners trying to make an honest living off the land, mercilessly slaughtered by senseless monsters.

"This is not how it is supposed to be," he growled to himself. "We are the strongest country in all the known world. How is it that this has come to pass?"

Ostrava sighed to himself and let his hands relax. After a while and much effort, he was able to peel his eyes from the scene below and looked onwards towards the Boletarian keep. The further up the path his eyes traveled, the thicker the fog grew. It was almost impossible to see the throne room from where he was currently standing, whereas any other time it would have been an easy task. The marvel of Boletaria had been that you could see the keep the entirety of the time you walked the path towards it.

"This is terrible!" he exclaimed anxiously to himself. "I must make haste, lest all be lost, and this have been for nothing…"

Ostrava cleared his mind and set forth towards the keep, hoping that the rest of the way would be just as uneventful as the last few hours had been.

* * *

Alvira walked cautiously up the bridge, worrying her halberd in her hands as she went. Though all seemed lifeless and still, she stressed about what lurked around every corner. It wouldn't be the first time that she had been jumped whilst unsuspecting. Not to mention the threat of a very angry drake still loomed over her shoulder.

Pushing onward despite these circumstances, she kept her eyes sharp and ears strained for anything unusual. She soon picked up what sounded like metal repeatedly striking stone in the distance. She peered through the fog; on the other side of the bridge, she could barely make out a tall, black figure that appeared to be rising and falling. She frowned and urged herself into the fog, both curious and apprehensive about the figure. The further she went, the louder the noise became until it had become an almost defeaning _bang_. The bridge began to quake beneath her feet, causing loose bits of stone railing to dislodge and plummet to the earth far below. With each step she took, the shaking turned more violent until balancing became quite difficult. Fragments of stone and wood cascaded down upon her head from the bridge's archways. She fought desperately to keep her composure each time the bridge shook and prayed that she would not get trapped beneath a pile of falling rubble.

The closer she got to the source, the stronger and more frequent the impacts became. Over the next archway she recognized the figure she had seen from afar towering high in the sky, but it quickly disappeared, and another barrage of shaking soon followed. Alvira made one last, quick dash, finally reaching the last archway, only to be blasted backwards by a forceful gust of wind. She landed hard on her back and wheezed, temporarily dazed. Another loud _bang _returned her to her senses, and she rose to her feet. Her mouth fell open and she gasped in disbelief as her gaze drifted upwards…

Standing some forty feet high in layers of chiseled black-steel armor was the mocking representation of a knight. He held in his right hand a large, menacing looking black-steel lance, and in his left hand he wielded a giant, reinforced shield standing nearly as high as he himself. His eyes were glowing a lustrous blue out of the sockets of his helmet, but not in the direction of Alvira. To her alarm, they were locked upon another; trapped in the corner of the square in which the Tower Knight stood keeper was Ostrava, sword and shield dropped to his sides and arms against the wall. His chest was heaving as he hyperventilated, and his head was frantically swiveling from side to side searching for a means of escape. He found Alvira standing in the entryway and began helplessly flailing his arms at her.

"For God's sake, help me!" he screamed. "He is going to kill me!"

The Tower Knight's armor groaned as he lifted his heavy shield. He raised it above his head, and with a _whoosh_ of the wind, it started to drop upon Ostrava.

"_Move!_" Alvira roared, and Ostrava threw himself forward as hard as he could, rolling awkwardly underneath the demon's legs. His shield hit the stone, creating another wind blast and rattling the ground, momentarily throwing both Alvira and Ostrava off-balance. The Tower Knight shifted focus to Alvira as she regained her poise and thrust his lance forward at her; she side-stepped the attack but was still grazed by the sharp tip of his weapon, which easily shredded through her armor and into her left shoulder. She cried out in pain and grabbed the wound; it had cut deep and was bleeding profusely down her arm.

Ostrava took the opportunity while the demon was distracted to collect his sword and shield. Then he ran to Alvira's side, clutching his breast in a feeble attempt to quell the rapid beating of his heart. His breathing was rigid and heavy. He had not been paying attention to the demon and was unaware that he had been winding up for another attack; the demon pulled his lance back and it began to glow bluish-white in his hand. He released it and a spear of magic flew fast towards them. Alvira seized Ostrava none too gently and pulled him backwards out of the archway to avoid the blow. The Tower Knight's attack impacted against the square's walls hard enough to collapse the archway entirely, making the square inaccessible to them. However, their moment of respite was short-lived as the Tower Knight easily traversed the broken walls, crushing them beneath his boot as he made his way towards them. A deep growl thundered in his chest and his blue eyes glinted eagerly as they found Ostrava, anticipating the kill.

"Come here, boy," the Tower Knight taunted in a low, rumbling voice that roiled them both to the core. "This is a world for the weak-willed no longer. Come to me and I will end your miserable existence mercifully."

He made another step towards them, then another, slowly walking out onto the bridge and causing it to convulse beneath his weight. Both Ostrava and Alvira backed away instinctively as the massive knight encroached upon them, weapons bared. Ostrava held his shield up in a quivering fist as if it would actually be useful against such a foe. He was whimpering and muttering incoherently to himself; Alvira's mind was racing, searching for a weakness, a solution, anything she could use against this demon, but she was drawing a blank.

Then, the Tower Knight's eyes flicked to her, and he stopped moving. He glared at her and chuckled darkly, saying, "A Temple Knight. How utterly amusing." He pounded the bottom of his shield on the ground, causing Alvira and Ostrava to teeter and stumble forward. They managed to remain upright, but just barely.

"Tell me, why are you here when your God is not?" the demon mocked.

Alvira bristled and looked him straight in the eye, anger seeming to radiate from every pore. "God _is _here. He is the very light and wind around us, and by His power you shall be smitten!"

At this, the Tower Knight laughed raucously, and the sound wrung in her ears. "Your order is built upon a foundation of hypocrisy!"

Alvira's fury rose at this insult, and she charged the Tower Knight blindly. He held up his shield, and when she was within his range, thrust it out to his side and sent her flying into the bridge's eastern wall so hard that it knocked the helmet from her head. The wind was taken from her lungs on impact and she slid uselessly to the ground, coughing and sputtering violently. Satisfied that she was out of the way for the moment, the Tower Knight turned his attention back to Ostrava, who was gaping at Alvira's prone form. The demon made a step towards him, and his attention immediately snapped back to the giant quickly approaching.

"You never were worthy," the demonic knight growled. "Unskilled with both fist and sword. You are an affront to the pride of Boletaria; one that I will gladly vanquish…"

Ostrava was paralyzed with fear as the Tower Knight encroached upon him. A petrified squeak escaped his throat as the demon once more raised his shield. Alvira came to then but was too far away to assist Ostrava in his moment of need. "Ostrava, get away! _Run_!" Her concerned voice jolted him out of his stupor, and he did just as she said: he ran. He was thrown off his feet as the demon's shield collided with the bridge. The bridge cracked and shifted slightly beneath the pressure. The Tower Knight released a frustrated roar at the missed blow as Ostrava scrambled beneath him, forcing himself quickly to rise and retreat from the monstrous figure. The demon knight whirled around and blindly smacked his shield down where Ostrava had been, and the stone beneath his feet split even more.

The Tower Knight growled and ground his teeth together, irritated that he had missed again. He jabbed at Ostrava a few times with his lance, but he managed to avoid every single hit. While Ostrava wasn't a particularly skilled fighter, he was rather quick-footed, something that the demon knight clearly had not foreseen. The Tower Knight stamped his foot angrily; the bridge cracked more beneath his tremendous form, though in his rage he failed to notice. All his ire was directed towards the insolent boy as he turned and made to run again. The Tower Knight once again pulled back his lance and fired a bolt of magic, however he sent it over Ostrava's head at the archway he was running towards, easily destroying it. Ostrava stopped dead in his tracks and stared helplessly at the pile of debris, far too large for him to reasonably scale. He was trapped once again between a wall and a demon, only this time he knew he would not be spared.

The demon threw another magic lance at Ostrava, prompting him to jump back. He spun around and faced his impossibly powerful foe. The Tower Knight was glaring daggers at him, all humor gone from his gaze as he tightened his hand around his lance. Yet a spark of hope blossomed in his chest as he saw Alvira slowly rising behind the demon, even as he swept his lance at him in a wide arc that would have taken off his head had he not ducked. The demon tried again but got the same result. Alvira was sneaking up behind him now, holding her halberd in both hands.

_I just have to keep his attention a little longer,_ Ostrava mused. _Alvira, please hurry; I do not know how much longer I can keep this up!_

The Tower Knight swung his lance again, however this time, anticipating Ostrava's dodge, he followed it up with a quick jab that pierced his breastplate, though it did not go past his chainmail as the force from the attack drove him backwards and onto his buttocks. Alvira was in position now behind the Tower Knight and Ostrava breathed a sigh of relief. She lunged the honed tip of her halberd forward into his Achille's tendon. A loud yell ripped from the demon's throat as the halberd pierced through his armor and into the skin, eliciting a violent spray of blood forth from the wound. However, to Alvira's dismay, the Tower Knight managed to remain on his feet, and before she could strike again, he kicked his foot back, propelling her backwards several yards.

"Impudent wench!" the Tower Knight roared. He twisted around and stared icily at Alvira, seething silently as she struggled weakly to stand again. Finally, he said, "Enough of you. I have suffered your presence too long as it is." Ostrava could only watch in horror as the demon raised his shield and brought it down. Alvira managed to slink far enough away on her knees that the Tower Knight missed, though the surge of wind knocked her away. Panic-stricken, Ostrava rushed underneath the Tower Knight's legs as he lifted his shield off the ground and knelt by Alvira.

"Oh no, oh no no no," he babbled as he looked down upon her unconscious face. She was their one hope of survival, and now that she was out cold, there was no way that Ostrava was going to be able to fend off the Tower Knight. His quest was going to end so shortly after it had begun. There was naught to do but accept his fate.

Then, suddenly, a loud _crack _caught his attention. The Tower Knight noticed as well, but far too late, as another _crack _sounded from the bridge and it broke beneath his feet. The Tower Knight lost his footing and fell heavily backwards; this last bit of force was all it took to send a portion of the bridge collapsing into the ocean below. The resulting shockwave dislodged the remainder of the damaged stone beneath his massive form and sent him crashing down into the ocean, the water eagerly engulfing him as he thrashed about before sinking to the aquatic depths.

Ostrava stared in bewilderment off the broken edge of the bridge as the water below slowly calmed itself. Alvira awoke shortly after and finally managed to rise; the force with which she had hit the stone had been none too kind to her damaged shoulder, and it ached fiercely. She clutched it tightly as she limped over to Ostrava, who jumped when he saw her out the corner of his eye. She sighed as she, too, looked to the water. After a time, a wispy white trail of light emerged from the water's surface and crept towards them slowly along the ground. Ostrava watched the light intently as it found Alvira and trailed up her body, eventually making its way to her belt and dissipating into an odd, gem-like device.

"Pride goeth before the fall," she said bitterly. Ostrava only nodded in response, his mind far away as he pondered the Tower Knight's words. The demon had seemed to know him somewhat personally and had been aggrieved by his presence, though Ostrava knew he had never before seen such a fiend as he. While demons obviously craved souls, the purpose of the Tower Knight attempting to slay Ostrava seemed borne out of spite more than hunger.

Alvira had questions of her own as she reeled over what the Tower Knight had said to her. What had he meant when he said that the Order of the Temple Knights had been "built upon a foundation of hypocrisy"? How had he known Ostrava, and why was he so eager to kill him? Though she eventually dismissed his taunts as lies, his words still sat uneasily in the back of her mind.

Eventually, Alvira turned away and collected her discarded helmet. Ostrava shook his head, clearing the cobwebs from his mind, and watched her as she plucked the helmet from the dilapidated bridge.

Having the opportunity now to truly look upon her face, Ostrava found her to be quite beautiful. Her eyes were a bright, fluorescent green speckled with bits of brown. Her silver-blonde hair was cut to her jawline and neatly framed her face. Her lips were full and had a pretty light pink color to them; she had high cheekbones and her jaw was rather thin. It was only after Alvira spoke again that he realized that he had been gawking.

"We shall not be so lucky next time," she said, seemingly more to herself than to Ostrava. She grimaced and sat down, slotting her helmet back into place. "We must endeavor harder or we shall be brought to a most untimely end."

Ostrava nodded slowly in agreement. Then his attention shifted towards the augite. "Just what is that, exactly?" he asked.

"This is an augite of souls," Alvira explained. "It safely carries the souls of those I've slain until I am able to deliver them to the Maiden."

Ostrava stared at the strange device in wonder. "Times are trying indeed for such a thing to be necessary."

Alvira laughed at that. "Two times I've saved you, now."

Ostrava felt his face turn hot and looked away. Alvira frowned. "I meant no offense…"

"None was taken, I just…" he trailed off.

There was silence for a long moment as he once again proposed asking her to travel with him. She was correct after all: she _had_ saved him twice. Furthermore, if he had more demons like that knight to contend with, he would never make it to the keep.

_At this point I have little choice,_ he mused. _If I go on alone, my life is forfeit_.

"Alvira…" he began.

"Yes?"

He pointed in the direction of the keep. "I suspect you are traveling that way, or am I mistaken?"

"If there are demons to be slain, then I will undoubtedly take that path."

"Then would you be interested in traveling together?"

Alvira looked at him and thought for a moment. He tensed slightly and rubbed the back of his helmet, anticipating a negative response. After what seemed like an eternity, he got his long-awaited answer.

"I would be honored." She offered him her hand. He smiled meekly and shook it.

"However, before we continue onward, I must return to the Nexus. I fear I may require a bit of stitching." She indicated to her badly-damaged shoulder and winced at the slight movement.

Ostrava blinked in confusion. "What is 'the Nexus?'"

"Perhaps the only safe haven left on this forsaken earth. Come here."

As Ostrava came closer to her, Alvira rummaged around in one of her pockets and produced a small, glowing rock. When she touched it, it seemed to glitter slightly brighter.

"What is this?" Ostrava inquired. "It seems to be a mere pebble. What use could this possibly be?"

"This is the shard of an archstone," she told him patiently. "It's linked to the Nexus and will return us there when it is activated."

Ostrava raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "That is incredible! How do we activate it?"

"Like so." Alvira clasped the shard closely to her breast and closed her eyes. Then, she grabbed Ostrava's hand as the rock burned brighter for a split second, enveloping them in its light and whisking them away to a place unknown to him.

* * *

**Author's note:** Taedmorden and Esvern Rise are names that I have created for otherwise unnamed landmarks in Boletaria. "Taedmorden" can be seen when traveling the tunnels underneath the Boletarian Bridge through holes in the wall but remains inaccessible to the player. "Esvern Rise" is the mountain peak viewable most of the way through Boletaria. These small details were added to give more emphasis to the landscape and to make the story feel a bit more engaging and realistic.


	4. Servants of Light

Upon entering the Nexus, Ostrava was in awe. The massive structure was unlike anything he had ever seen. Alvira could hardly contain her smile as she watched his bright blue eyes wander over each square inch, for she had felt much the same wonderment when she had first arrived here. She left Ostrava to his explorations as she strode over to the resident blacksmith, eager to repair and polish the armor she had so proudly donned upon being anointed a Knight of the Temple.

"Greetings, Boldwin," she said chipperly as the old man locked his tired, grey eyes with hers. Then, he noticed her badly tarnished armor and sighed at her sullenly.

"I see ya've been busy," he stated in his ever-bitter tone.

"I was hoping you could help me with some repairs."

"O'course I can, lass," Boldwin grunted, "I can fix anythin'. But it'll cost ya."

Alvira had learned very quickly that no service in Boletaria was given for free. When the demons had attacked and stolen peoples' souls, the few that managed to escape and stay sane began to covet the souls they came to possess, even if they were not particularly interested in the practice of Soul Arts. Souls in a land ravaged by soul-stealing demons were an assurance of survival as those whose souls were taken were reduced to mindless madmen. Thus, they had become the main currency of Boletaria, replacing the common coin. Alvira pulled a pouch from one of her pockets containing a generous amount of souls and dropped it in Boldwin's upturned palm. He weighed it in his hand and gave her a curt smile and a nod, clearly approving of its contents.

"That'll do, lass. I'll get the job done nice 'n' quick for ya so ya can get back to yer slayin'."

"Much obliged, Boldwin," Alvira replied as she slid off her gauntlets and unbuckled her breastplate and greaves. She laid them down in a neat pile by his anvil as he set to work pounding out some of the dents in her chest piece.

As she listened to the monotonous striking of the hammer against metal, Alvira's thoughts started to drift towards Ostrava. She found the young man to be somewhat of an anomaly. He was clearly afraid of the demons, and as far as she could tell, he seemed to lack any sort of fighting finesse. She even noted that the excessively ornate sword and shield that he carried were not all that useful for combat. For one, they had been forged of gold, which is a softer, pliable metal that can be easily dented or bent, thus it was not the best choice for striking or slashing. But the shield was a most peculiar choice, designed like a cross that flowered out exquisitely between the gaps. However, within those gaps were many slits in which a sword could easily pierce through, making the shield's defensive capability largely useless. While the set of equipment was breathtaking in its beauty and intricacy, Alvira had to wonder why he had chosen to carry it with him as it simply was not practical for fighting. It seemed that at every turn all the young man was doing was putting his life in danger, and since the demons had come, death in Boletaria was now the least of one's worries, for far worse was now possible. Surely Ostrava was aware of this. Why, then, was he here? What was his obsession with getting to the Boletarian keep?

"Hail, Temple Knight!" an unfamiliar voice suddenly called. Alvira was abruptly jerked from her thoughts and her heart jumped in her chest as she was startled.

"Whoa, there. I did not mean to frighten you, my lady," it said. Alvira turned to face the unfamiliar voice and beheld a man shrouded in the holy white garb of the Temple. The plain, white robe covered him from head to foot, and on his chest was a baroquesly woven symbol of the Tree in blue outlined with silver. His head was covered with a white hood, and in his left hand he held a familiar oaken talisman also carved in the likeness of the Tree. He smiled at Alvira warmly as her green eyes met his brown ones.

"Hail!" he said again. "I noticed your attire and recognized you as a Knight of the Temple."

Alvira nodded to him. "Hail, Brother. I am indeed a Knight of the Temple."

The man beamed at her, then asked, "What brings you to a place such as this?"

"I've come to Boletaria to slay demons," Alvira replied simply.

"Umbasa! How fortunate we are to have one so holy and honorable slaying those accursed abominations!" The man bowed low to her and clutched his talisman tightly to his chest. "But forgive me, for I have forgotten my manners. My name is Sabrathan, and I serve as an Acolyte in the Temple of God. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"I am Alvira, Knight of the Temple of God, as you have already guessed."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Knight," Sabrathan said, outstretching his palm. Alvira clutched it and gave his hand a firm shake before withdrawing and eying him warily.

"So," she started. "I've told you why I'm here. What of yourself?"

"Well, Lady Knight, to put matters simply: I came to Boletaria to spread the holy word of God. I had expected to do my share of helping to restore order here after I heard of the demon's sacrilege. I did not expect such… wanton destruction."

Alvira nodded grimly. "It is quite a predicament Boletaria has found itself in. I've not seen anything so gruesome or disturbing as the destruction they've wrought."

"Indeed." Sabrathan's face screwed up in a grimace. "However, dark as these times may be, God has sent His aid to Boletaria through the likes of us. We may yet restore light to this otherwise doomed kingdom."

"Yes, Brother Sabrathan. I know that God sees our plight and will guide our hand through these endeavors. With God on our side, we shall not fail!"

"Umbasa!" Sabrathan cried, grinning at Alvira broadly. "Lady Knight, you truly are a marvel to behold! How is it possible to be without hope when you are our champion?" He placed a hand on Alvira's uninjured shoulder and glanced briefly over her wounds before closing his eyes. She could hear him quickly muttering a prayer; then, he lifted his head and met her gaze again. "Lady Knight, if I may, I would like to offer my services to you."

Alvira cocked her head in curiosity and appraised the man. "What did you have in mind, Brother Sabrathan?"

"Well, we could start with that," he replied as he nodded towards her shoulder. "And seeing as I am otherwise incapable of fulfilling my original purpose, I feel that God has now presented me with an alternative method of achieving what I have sought to do. Lady Knight, you surely know of the practice of miracles?"

Alvira nodded. "Yes. I had hoped to begin my lessons on the subject but was unfortunately unable before I came here."

"Ah, then I may be of assistance after all! Come!" Sabrathan gestured towards the direction he had come and began to walk away. Alvira left Boldwin to his work and followed the Acolyte to a corner of the Nexus where he had established his "camp," which was little more than a blue cloth laid out on the ground with many books and candles scattered about it. Sabrathan took a seat in the middle of the cloth and motioned for Alvira to sit in front of him.

"I expect you have one of these?" Sabrathan showed her the talisman that he proudly clutched in his left hand.

"I do," Alvira replied. "In my packs. Excuse me for one moment while I retrieve it." She shuffled over to the packs of supplies she had left by her stack of armor with Baldwin and plucked the talisman from them, then hastily made her way back to the Acolyte's corner.

"First lesson, Lady Knight," Sabrathan began as Alvira took her seat, "is to never abandon your talisman. Should you ever be without sword or shield, God may be your last line of defense. Do not forget Him."

"You are right, Brother Sabrathan. I've been foolish."

"No, not foolish. Simply misguided." Sabrathan held out the hand that gripped his talisman and looked to Alvira expectantly. "Now, let us begin our first lesson."

* * *

Ostrava was so enraptured by the Nexus' archstones that he hadn't even noticed when Alvira had left his side. He studied the Small King's archstone intently. The carving of the king's face was extraordinarily accurate, detailing every feature down to the crow's feet and the smile lines on the old man's face. The archstone extended high above Ostrava's head, and sculpted higher up into the marble was an open book. From the book blossomed the same image of a tree that adorned Alvira's armor, and from that tree cascaded many tiny leaves. The whole piece was truly masterful. In fact, the carving of the king was so detailed that Ostrava thought that he almost recognized him, although he could not quite place where he had seen him.

"Would you please get a move on already? I was quite enjoying the peace and quiet," a sulky voice echoed behind him. Ostrava turned, surprised he had not noticed the figure before. Then his eyes grew wide as he surveyed the "man." He was completely ethereal and glowing white, but around his ankle was an odd iron bracelet. He was clothed in ragged and bloodied white cloth that gave him the appearance of a common beggar. The man wasn't looking at him but was sitting on the steps in front of the Boletarian archstone hunched over with his face in his hands, looking utterly defeated.

"Who…" Ostrava began. "What are you?"

The figure scoffed. "What do you think? I am a dead man."

Ostrava's mouth hung open in disbelief. "This is where people go when they die?" Now the man laughed loudly and looked at Ostrava for the first time, shaking his head as he did so. The man's eyes were empty and completely lifeless. Ostrava shivered and slightly averted his gaze.

"Tell me you aren't truly that stupid," he said. "Do you not understand what this place is?"

"I… not really, no." Ostrava replied with a hint of embarrassment in his tone. The man sighed and it echoed lightly around him.

"This is the Nexus. A prison. This is the place that damned Monumental and Maiden bring people like us to do all their dirty work for them. Sending us out to kill demons while they sit in here on their arses, fully capable of doing the same. It's their fault, you know!"

Ostrava raised an eyebrow at the ranting figure. "I am not sure I follow you. Monumental, Maiden-?"

"Don't you get it? They're the ones that released the Old One the first time! Now they've gone and done it again, so they're trying to use us to clean up the mess! They bind us here and don't let us leave until we do as they command!" He pointed angrily towards the iron binding on his ankle. "We cannot even escape their clutches in death, for they have bound our very souls!"

"Slow down, I do not even-"

"Well, they won't get _me_ to do the task! Although it seems they don't need to. They found a new sheep in that other one, willing and able as she is. Yes, she makes quite a good pet for them. I can tell they're pleased with her."

"Are you talking about Alvira?"

The man waved his hand dismissively at Ostrava. "I couldn't care less what the broad's name is. I just know that to them, she is a useful idiot."

At this, Ostrava bristled. Clearly this man was crazy, and he hadn't any idea about any of the nonsense he was spouting, especially about Alvira. Ostrava held up his chin and looked the man directly in the face.

"I do not know a damn thing about the claims you make of these others, but Alvira is nothing of the sort that you say." The man chuckled darkly to himself, hung his head, and waved Ostrava away.

"Leave me," he demanded, the despair clearly palpable in his voice. "I do not wish to be in the company of the ignorant."

Ostrava stood unwavering for a moment, ready to argue his point, but as he looked down upon the broken man, he decided that he simply was not worth his time. He had questions about his condition, but he decided that perhaps those were best saved for Alvira. With that, Ostrava turned on his heels and strode away, leaving the man alone once more to his lunacy. He sought Alvira at the blacksmith, who informed him of her meeting with Acolyte Sabrathan and pointed him in the general direction they had gone.

* * *

"You are doing well. Now remember, target your soul energy towards the talisman, then let it flow outwards."

Alvira focused closely, and in her very being she sensed a pure energy. She shifted her attention towards that energy and redirected her focus towards the talisman. She could feel her energy pouring into it, and the talisman itself began to hum and grow faintly warm. The energy continued to ebb into the talisman until she felt she had put in a sufficient amount, then, she willed the energy outwards and placed her fingertips against her wounded shoulder. A dim, golden light radiated from them, barely visible, and she felt tiny pricks of warmth on her skin that seemed to smooth over the damaged surface and provide a small amount of relief. Still, it wasn't enough power to heal it entirely, and the sensation slowly faded from her as the spell did also. It hadn't been quite the reaction she was hoping for, but it was better than her previous attempts. She looked back to Sabrathan, who was grinning broadly at her.

"Well done, Lady Knight!" He gave her a small round of applause and Alvira smiled slightly. "You have come to understand the method, now you must simply practice it to come to mastery. And I daresay you are a very fast learner. Most novices require at least a week of training to reach the same feats as you have done in one mere hour."

"I'm honored by your compliment, Brother Sabrathan," Alvira replied and bowed her head in thanks.

"Go on then, Lady Knight; give the spell another go."

Alvira repeated the process, but overestimated the amount of energy she needed, causing the spell to slightly sear the wound. She hissed and clenched her teeth, but luckily the burning faded fast, though it still left a visible mark on her. Sabrathan frowned and shook his head.

"No, that was too much," he told her. "You have to find the right balance of energy, which is the trickiest part of healing. Are you all right?"

Alvira nodded as she rolled her shoulder. "Yes, it didn't hurt too badly."

"Very good. Now try again," he instructed. Just as he spoke, Ostrava came into view around the corner and watched them curiously.

Sabrathan did not hesitate. "Hail, friend!" he began. "How might I be of service?"

Alvira looked up from her talisman and saw Ostrava standing in front of them, looking a bit lost. She smiled at him and beckoned him to come closer to them.

"Brother Sabrathan, this is Ostrava. We have agreed to travel together."

"Is that so?" he asked, considering him for a moment. "Come, my boy, do not be shy! I am teaching the Lady here the fine art of miracles! You are more than welcome to attend."

"Most gracious of you, err…" Ostrava started.

"Please, call me Brother Sabrathan."

Ostrava nodded to him in acknowledgement and took a seat next to Alvira. She gave him another smile and then returned her focus to her talisman. Ostrava briefly met Sabrathan's eyes and the older man gave him a wink. At this, his face became heated and he redirected his gaze downwards towards his lap.

Alvira once more placed her fingertips to her shoulder, closed her eyes, and concentrated heavily on her own soul energy as it leaked slowly into her talisman. She stopped just as the talisman began to feel warm, then redirected the energy to her fingertips once more. The golden light returned as her energy circulated through her palm into her wound and the warmth returned. However, this time it felt different; she didn't feel any prickling or burning, just a soothing touch. Promptly the wound began to close, and the torn skin knitted itself neatly back together. She kept her fingers in place until the wound disappeared entirely, not even leaving behind so much as a scar. She allowed the energy in her talisman to drain, and it grew cold again as the rest of it returned to her. Alvira looked at the cite of the healed wound and brushed her fingers over it, amazed that there was no trace of pain. Ostrava looked to be just as surprised, if not more so, than she was if his wide-eyed stare was any indication.

"I commend you, Lady Knight! You have done it!" Sabrathan cried. "This is the most basic of healing miracles. It is slow and requires an immense amount of concentration. I do not recommend using it during battle, as you may end up doing more harm than good."

Alvira smiled at Sabrathan. "Thank you for taking the time to teach me, Brother. Your efforts are deeply appreciated."

Sabrathan bowed to her. "Lady Knight, I do believe you have learned enough for now. Feel free to return to me when you feel that you are ready, and I shall gladly teach you more. You have already proven to be a very capable student. God has truly blessed you, child."

"Thank you, Brother Sabrathan. I shall be seeing you again."

"I suspect you shall, for I shan't be leaving anytime soon," he chuckled. "Farewell for now, Lady Knight. Umbasa!"

"Umbasa."

Alvira faced Ostrava and they turned away towards the center of the Nexus. "I suspect Boldwin has had ample time to do those repairs," she told him. Ostrava nodded and followed her over to the blacksmith, who was lying back against a pillar dozing and snoring lightly. Sure enough, Alvira's armor was set to the side looking much better than the state she had left it in. She decided to leave the sleeping blacksmith to his nap and quietly buckled each piece back into place. Once she was armed and ready, she turned to Ostrava again and regarded his eagerness.

"Would I be correct in assuming you wish to continue to the keep?" she asked.

"Yes, if we may. It is a matter of urgency."

"Come." She led him to the Archstone of the King that he had been admiring earlier. The man that he had conversed with earlier was now gone, he noted. Alvira stretched out her arm to touch the archstone and gripped Ostrava's hand in the other. He looked around warily, and as they disappeared, he briefly caught the eyes of the dead man, now sitting on a beam suspended above the Nexus' seal. His grim expression sat uneasily with Ostrava as the Nexus faded from his sight.


	5. The Darkness of Stonefang

Ostrava wasn't fully aware that he was on his knees in front of a gigantic, demonic spider. He didn't even consider the fact that he had been screaming so loud that he had torn his throat. The forefront of his focus was her, Alvira, whose lifeless body was sliding slowly down the Armor Spider's foreleg, leaving a generous coating of blood and viscera behind. He felt numb. He felt just as hollow and empty as she now was. He had failed her. She had died because of his ineptitude. He was next, but it no longer mattered. Everything was futile without her by his side.

His screaming didn't cease. His ears began to bleed. He clutched the sides of his head and roared his despair and hopelessness to the heavens. Alvira's body sagged to the ground in a heap as it separated from the Armor Spider's leg. The demon chittered and purred to itself contently as it brought its head low and chelicerae forward. Its jaws opened wide and were about to clamp down on its fallen prey when a vortex of white light surrounded her. Her body disintegrated before their eyes, momentarily leaving an empty suit of armor behind. Then the light began to pour into the armor's crevices. The Armor Spider was temporarily indisposed as the light blinded it, thrashing about uselessly above the eerily glowing figure as it slowly rose to stand. Ostrava had finally stopped screaming and could only stare through teary eyes as it leisurely approached Alvira's discarded halberd and took it in hand.

The Armor Spider was screeching and flailing its legs violently and all eight of its eyes were rolled askew in agony. The apparition now haunting Alvira's armor – for that was all Ostrava could think it to be - turned to the demon, took the halberd and brought the blade down viciously on the beast's head. It bounced off the demon's reinforced plating, but it still let out a wail and withdrew slightly. The ghost rose and twirled the halberd above its head before bearing down again at a slightly different angle and got the same result. It repeated the process several more times and the demon's throes became increasingly frantic with each strike. It spat a few fireballs at the luminescent figure, albeit uselessly as the spider's erratic movement threw its aim wide off the mark and only managed to singe some of its own defensive webbing. When this failed, the demon reared forward suddenly and brought its front legs down on the accursed creature; it rose its halberd defensively and whirled the weapon adroitly, deflecting the beast's strikes away from it and causing the demon to recoil with a screech that sounded almost… frightened. The cornered beast made another desperate attempt to dispel its attacker, and with lightning speed struck its legs outwards, using them like pikes. The apparition wasn't fully prepared for the sudden onslaught, only managing an awkward defensive stance that saw it being pushed backwards away from the demon, albeit with intransigence.

When the beast pulled its legs back, the apparition rushed forward, holding its halberd as one might an executioner's axe with a victim on the block, and brought the honed blade down once more. It caught its halberd in an open slit of the spider's armor and hooked the weapon behind the demon's head. It squealed the loudest Ostrava had heard yet as it instinctively tried to twist itself away. Its resistance only served to be of its own detriment, the opposing force assisting the revenant as it pulled the halberd back vigorously. The spider screeched and burbled as its head was slowly separated from its body. It dug its front legs into the ground and pulled back harder, feebly attempting but miserably failing to dislodge the weapon from its exoskeleton. The apparition stood resolute, digging its armored heels into the ground to root itself firmly in place. Pale blue blood began to flow from the Armor Spider's wound to the ground, creating a deep, sticky puddle around the apparition's armored feet.

The gruesome tug-of-war went on for several minutes until the apparition gave one last, potent yank and the Armor Spider's pain-filled cries were brought to a precipitous end. Its head came loose from its body and fell into its own pool of blood with a gut-churning _squelch_. Its body immediately followed, plunging to the ground in an entangled mass of legs and webbing.

Ostrava blinked slowly as he gazed upon the ghostly form, now standing forebodingly over the corpse of the demon. A white light, though darker than the one from before, swirled around its body before dissolving slowly into the shining augite on its belt, making its light shine all the brighter. Understanding began to dawn on Ostrava as he watched the familiar ritual. After a few tense moments, the apparition turned to him and stared wordlessly.

"A-Alvira…?" he managed to stutter out weakly. His voice came out shaky and unsteady from his mangled throat.

The incandescent being walked towards him and smoothly placed the halberd on its back as it did so. Fear momentarily ignited within him and he took a couple of steps back before he realized what he was doing. He stopped himself and let the ominously glowing figure approach. It regarded him for a moment before reaching up and pulling the helmet from its head.

Ostrava blanched. It _was _her. Only now she was without flesh. He was staring into the face of Alvira's bodiless soul. Her once warm and inviting eyes seemed bitterly cold as they bored, unblinking, into his. He recalled the soul from the Nexus and the words he'd spoken. He hadn't truly believed all of what he'd said, but now one of his statements was undeniable.

'_We cannot even escape their clutches in death, for they have bound our very souls…_'

This was all his fault. She had sacrificed herself to protect him, and even after death, she had risen again and spared him a similar fate. He reached for her slowly and his chest tightened as he was overwhelmed by the gravity of what he had done. He had to apologize for his cowardice; had to make this right somehow. He simply would not be able to abide by himself if he did not.

He fell to his knees before her, and without thinking, yanked his helmet from his head and tossed it aside. Up to this point he had been trying to remain discreet, but right now none of that mattered to him. He needed for her to be able to look upon him as he looked upon her. He bowed his head, took her hand, and squeezed his eyes shut as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He clenched her palm tightly in his and he pulled on her arm, asking her without words to kneel with him.

Alvira did so and studied his face closely. It was the first time she had seen him without a helmet. He had dark, rich chestnut-colored hair that hung slightly in his eyes and down to his shoulders. His face was broad and chiseled, accented by sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. His lips were thin and only barely darker than the pale white of his skin. He had a dark bruise under his left eye where his helmet had impacted with his face when they had fallen and there was dried blood coming out of his ears. Other than that, he had only suffered some minor scratching.

She gingerly reached forward and caressed his face with her cold, armored palm. Ostrava started and opened his eyes. As Alvira investigated their deep, blue depths, she felt as if she was being slowly drowned in an ocean of apathy. Slowly, another tear escaped; she caught it with her thumb and gently wiped it away.

"It's okay, Ostrava," she said quietly, her voice reverberating softly around them. The last of his tears fell, but he shook his head in defiance of the words she spoke.

"No…" he rasped, struggling to force the words from his throat. "No. You died because of me."

She smiled at him. The expression did little to change the coldness of her eyes. "Ostrava, this isn't the first time I've experienced death, and it likely won't be the last."

His eyes widened and he stared at her, but amidst his puzzlement, he could find nothing to say. She continued.

"As a demon slayer, I was never expected to be able to face the hardships that I do without encountering death. Demons wield immeasurable power; it would be foolish to task a lone human to hunt them without some sort of protective measures in place."

"I… I do not understand, Alvira," he croaked.

Without another word, she released her hold on him and removed her left boot. She set it to the side and showed him her ankle. Encircling her ghostly form was an iron binding, much like a shackle, engraved with unfamiliar symbols that glowed dimly in the surrounding darkness. Again, his mind flashed briefly to the man in the Nexus. He had worn one of these as well.

"This is a Nexial Binding," she explained as she slid her boot back onto her foot. "It ties my soul to the Nexus and prevents it from being taken when I'm inevitably killed."

"So… you are immortal?" he asked, though doubt was present in his tone.

At this, she shook her head. "No. This blessing is extended to me so long as I serve the Monumental."

Ostrava remained silent for a moment, feebly attempting to maintain eye contact, but ultimately succumbing to his shame and looking away. Alvira swept a wayward strand of hair from his face, earning her a brief sidelong glance from the self-loathing knight.

Suddenly, he felt her pulling on his wrist, urging him to rise. He did so lethargically, letting the weight of his guilt bear down freely upon his shoulders. They stood in silence for a moment, and Ostrava could feel Alvira watching him. Eventually, he could stand it no longer, and their gazes clashed again. Alvira ran her palm up to his shoulder and grasped it reassuringly.

"Do not despair for me, Ostrava," Alvira began. "This is the path I have chosen, and I willingly accept its conditions. By my hand, these demons will fall, and should my body fail, by my blessings I will return anew until my task is complete."

Though the words were not borne from his own mouth, Ostrava nearly choked on them. They warmed him; made him undeniably sure that Boletaria would be spared and the evildoings of the demons could be undone. Hope filled his heart, replacing the heady misery that had been plaguing him. A smile crossed his lips as her words threatened all his ills, effectively keeping them at bay.

"Thank you, Alvira," he whispered to her. "Truly."

* * *

When they returned to the Nexus, Alvira went to visit Boldwin to inquire about the damage done to her breastplate. Ostrava decided to stay behind for a much-needed moment of respite. He took a seat at the base of the Archstone of the Small King, leaned against it, and closed his eyes. He was physically and mentally exhausted, and his muscles hurt from tension. He rolled his shoulders, stretched out his legs, and sat in silence for a while. It was only when he heard a quiet rustling that he cracked one of his tired eyes open.

Staring down at him was a woman wrapped in a strange black cloth, wielding a long staff with a candle on the end. A scratchy cry of surprise escaped him, and he involuntarily threw himself against the archstone in an attempt to back away. The woman remained still as a statue. Upon further inspection, Ostrava realized that the woman's eyes were occluded by wax and sewn around the edges.

"God, you scared me," he breathed harshly. The woman said nothing and only tilted her head curiously at him.

"Can you speak?" he asked after a few more seconds of silence. No response was given. He was beginning to feel quite awkward and uncomfortable under the apparent scrutiny of the woman. Thankfully, Alvira chose that moment to return and the woman's focus shifted to her. She had left her breastplate with Boldwin and was now only adorned by the rich blue and silver undershirt she wore beneath her armor from the waist up.

"Greetings, Slayer of Demons," the woman said to Alvira in a delicate, oddly accented voice. Ostrava sighed to himself. If she could speak, why had she not responded to him?

"Greetings," Alvira reciprocated. "I see you've met Ostrava."

At the mention of Ostrava, the woman fell silent again. Ostrava's shoulders slouched. First, the Monumental had ignored him, and now this one was, too. The feeling of insignificance was quickly growing on him.

The woman broke through his brooding thoughts when she spoke to Alvira again. "Dost thou seek soul power?"

Alvira nodded and knelt before the woman. She placed her hand on Alvira's head and began a slow chant. Ostrava was too enraptured with the scene before him to hear the words she spoke. He watched in utter amazement as Alvira's form returned to flesh and the souls she had collected thus far flowed forth from her augite and swirled around her before stretching around her skin and seeping into her pores.

The woman's chanting was mesmerizing to Ostrava in an otherworldly way, but it ceased soon enough, and she carefully slid her slender palm from Alvira's head. Alvira rose to her feet, now human once again, and bowed to the woman. She did not return the gesture, but rather asked her, "Dost thou require further assistance?"

"No," Alvira replied. "Thank you."

The woman said nothing more and turned away from her to make her way up the stairs, relighting candles along the wall that had recently blown out. Once she was out of earshot, Ostrava looked to Alvira. Feeling rather perplexed, he asked "Who was that woman, and… what did she _do_ to you?"

Alvira took a seat next to him, then said, "I do not know her name, but to everyone here, she's known simply as the Maiden in Black. She has the power to manipulate souls, and thus uses the souls I bring her to make me stronger."

Ostrava's mouth fell open, and for a moment all that left him were incoherent babbles. Finally, he managed to say, "I see… so she must be quite powerful."

Alvira nodded. "She is indeed."

"Why are her eyes covered with wax?"

To this, Alvira shrugged. "I'm not sure. I do not know much about her. She is an enigma even to the Monumental."

"Have you tried asking her?"

"Yes, but she won't answer any questions regarding herself. But I do not sense antipathy or ill-will from her." Alvira thought for a moment. "In fact, I find her to be quite benevolent and empathetic, even if she doesn't show it very well. But enough of that. How are you faring?"

Ostrava winced as he remembered the aches and pains that he was still feeling. "Not terribly, though I could use some rest."

"Very well. I will fetch you my bedroll and you may rest here. I shall be with Sabrathan should you need me."

Ostrava nodded as he relaxed against the archstone. He folded his hands in his lap and shut his eyes, and soon he was wading in and out of slumber. After some minutes, Alvira returned with her bedroll and laid it out for him. He tucked into it and attempted to get comfortable. However, there was something at the back of his mind keeping him from succumbing to sleep. The awful image of Alvira's moment of death, the emptiness in her eyes when he had faced her soulless form – these things seeped uncomfortably into the darkness behind his eyelids. He tried to ignore these thoughts, pushing them off into a far corner of his mind as his desperation for sleep grew, but each time he was on the edge, they would return. Flustered that sleep would elude him for now, he sought to answer some of the questions burning in his mind.

He eyed the discorporate man from afar, still sitting on his perch above the Nexus' seal. Ostrava sighed to himself before forcing his tired and battered body to stand. He stretched and glanced at the man again, realizing his focus was now directed towards him. It was as good an invitation as any, he supposed.

Ostrava approached the man, his gaze never leaving him as he did. The man's eyes were just as dead as Alvira's had been, he noted, but his soul glimmered more faintly than hers had – a murky off-white, whereas hers had been bright to the point of being blinding. Ostrava briefly wondered at that until the man addressed him.

"And what do you want of me this time?" he sighed. "All I desire is to be left alone. Is such a simple request to be denied me?"

"I was hoping to ask you some questions," Ostrava started, ignoring the man's lamenting.

"As I recall, you had little interest in what I had to say," the man scowled.

Ostrava looked at him directly then, eyes piercing. "Perhaps I do not agree with your evaluation of Alvira, but for the rest I am in the dark. Please."

The soul sighed and dropped his head. "Oh, so be it…"

"What is your name?" Ostrava asked.

This question threw the soul off-guard, and he frowned. "Why does that matter?"

"Because I would like to know the title of whom I speak to, and perhaps, be your friend should you allow it. Will you not tell me?"

The man looked away from Ostrava then, sadness sneaking into his otherwise featureless face. "No," he stated flatly. "I will not."

"Why is that?"

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed between them, until finally the man answered, "Because I don't remember."

Ostrava furrowed his brow in confusion. "How do you not remember your own name?"

The man scoffed, irritation flaring within him. "I don't remember anything of my life before this. Over time my memories have fled me."

"How is that possible?"

"I've remained in this state for far too long," he said, gesturing at his ethereal form. "Each day that passes, I find more of myself withering away."

"Oh…" was all Ostrava could think to say. "I am sorry."

"I'm not. I do not wish to remember. This is all there is now." The man swept his hand around the Nexus for emphasis. "The world won't survive the demons' transgressions a second time."

"But how can you believe that?" Ostrava asked, slightly appalled by the man's faithlessness. "How can you just give up?"

At this, the man seemingly bristled, and a fire ignited in his eyes. "Have you come only to torment me, or do you have real questions?" he spat. "If not, begone!"

"I-" Ostrava began. "I apologize. "Can you tell me something?"

The man only grunted in response.

"What is it like… to die?"

The soul looked at Ostrava out of the corner of his eye before answering, "That depends on how you die."

"How did _you_ die?"

"A demon killed me, of course," he said matter-of-factly. "I was lured here by the Monumental and my fate was quickly sealed by a big, fanged, ferocious beast."

"Was it… painful…?" Ostrava asked hesitantly.

"Yes. I was torn limb-from-limb before the monstrosity crushed my skull like an over-ripe fruit." Ostrava flinched and felt his stomach lurch at that description. "Then I woke up here, like this. The Monumental tried to manipulate me, telling me that humans awoke the Old One again and that I was required to put it back to sleep. But that's not possible; knowledge of Soul Arts was wiped from the earth by them ages ago. They started dabbling and _they_ awoke the damned thing, not us humans."

The man went quiet for a moment and pinched his nose. "After dying like that, they expected me to just go out there and do it again and again. Meanwhile, they can't even tell the God damned truth." At that, he faced Ostrava fully, eyes boring into his. "Take this to heart, lest you be damned like her – Alvira is a pawn. That is all she will ever be to the Maiden and the Monumental, and whether she succeeds or fails, it matters not so long as they are our masters."

Ostrava's mouth formed into a thin line as he took in the dead man's words. "Surely, we, as men, have something to gain in the destruction of these demons. Why do you believe the Monumental and the Maiden to be insincere? They have taken on the task of cleansing our world so that we may thrive; is that not noble?"

"'Noble?' Pah! We are only cleaning up the mess that they have caused," the man said through gritted teeth. "And it _will_ happen again so long as they remain."

"Enough of this; I have not come to debate," Ostrava retorted irately.

"Then leave me! Your presence has grown wearisome."

Ostrava rolled his eyes and rose to leave. He said nothing more to the cynical soul as he walked away. He felt thoroughly frustrated as the closed-off man had failed to answer any of the questions that ailed him and had only exasperated him with his rhetoric.

_The poor fellow is quite mad, indeed; perhaps that is another side effect of his condition_, Ostrava thought to himself as he turned carefully on his heels and strode away. Though in the back of his mind, the sympathetic side of him hoped that by defeating the demons, the wretched soul could be freed from his troubles at last.

More exhausted than he had been before, Ostrava returned to Alvira's bedroll and laid himself down gently. He tossed and turned for a while, images of Alvira's death haunting his mind until eventually he drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

When Alvira spotted Brother Sabrathan, he was predictably in his corner skimming through one of his various tomes. When he eyed her approaching over the rim of his book, he smiled broadly.

"Welcome back, Lady Knight! I have been looking forward to your return!"

"Greetings, Brother Sabrathan," she said as she took a seat in front of him. "I was curious to know if you could teach me offensive miracles?"

"Would that I could, dear Knight, but I am afraid that is not possible." He frowned as he bent the corner of the current page in his book and promptly shut it. "I cannot do so because the thing you request does not exist."

Alvira quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "Truly?"

"Indeed! For, you see, miracles were not designed to harm, rather to protect and mend."

Alvira nodded in response. "I understand, Brother Sabrathan." She pulled her talisman from her pocket and studied it silently for a moment before she continued. "Then may I ask what you advise I learn next?"

"Hmm," he started as he reached back for one of his tomes and flipped through the pages. He exclaimed a quiet "Aha!" when he found the page he was looking for and handed the tome over to Alvira. "Perhaps this will do?"

On the page Alvira read the words "Hidden Soul," followed by instructions on casting the spell. She skimmed over the page for a few moments before lowering it and nodding to Sabrathan. "I foresee many scenarios in which this could be useful."

Sabrathan flashed a smile at her and held up his talisman. "Then, shall we begin?"

* * *

Ostrava awoke some hours later, feeling little better than when he had finally managed to fall asleep. He stretched his arms and legs before carefully standing. The Nexus was quiet and dim as most of its residents had retired for the night; the only sound he could make-out was the faint pattering of the Maiden in Black's bare feet upon the marble floor as she extinguished some of the candles. As expected, Alvira was nowhere in sight.

"Must still be with Brother Sabrathan," Ostrava muttered to himself as he neatly rolled up the bedroll and made for Sabrathan's nook. As he rounded the corner, he saw Sabrathan sitting upon his blanket with a raggedy-looking tome in his hand. He was smiling to himself, but Alvira was not with him. He looked about curiously as he walked towards the older man.

"Hail, Sabrathan!" Ostrava called.

The acolyte redirected his gaze towards Ostrava, smile never wavering. "Greetings, lad! How may I be of service?"

"I was merely wondering if you have seen Alvi-" Ostrava started as he walked closer. When he was within touching distance of Sabrathan, Alvira materialized in front of him, sitting cross-legged and looking up at Ostrava with a pleased expression. Ostrava yelped and fumbled backwards, barely managing to remain upright.

"What on God's earth?" he cried hoarsely. Alvira couldn't contain her laughter as she looked into Ostrava's bewildered eyes. Sabrathan's grin broadened and he let out a deep chuckle.

"I do believe you are quite adept with this miracle, Lady Knight," Sabrathan said as he clapped Alvira on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Brother Sabrathan!" she replied giddily.

"I-, wha-, how…?" Ostrava stammered before he finally managed a more coherent "Where did you come from?"

"I've been here the whole time!" Alvira laughed. Ostrava did not appear any less perplexed.

"You see, my dear boy, whilst you were resting, I have been teaching the lady a new trick," Sabrathan explained. "It is known as 'Hidden Soul;' which is a miracle devised by Temple Knight assassins that conceals the caster's body as well as their soul energy, making them nearly undetectable. The lady has learned this spell with particular efficiency."

Alvira smiled at that. "I am honored by your words, Brother."

"And I am honored to be your teacher." Sabrathan bowed his head to Alvira, who returned the gesture in kind. Ostrava stood before them awestruck, gazing upon Alvira reverently.

"I do believe that will be all for tonight, Lady Knight," Sabrathan spoke. "I am afraid I have grown quite weary. Do excuse me."

"Of course; goodnight, Brother Sabrathan." Alvira stood from her sitting position, offering Sabrathan another slight bow before turning away. Sabrathan held up his hand in response but was busying himself by packing away some of his tomes and preparing his bedroll.

Alvira and Ostrava made their way back to Boldwin and collected her armor. The old man was still awake, tinkering with a sword, but offered to help her equip it, which she readily declined; she gave him a curt nod and a "thank you" in turn before heading up the stairs to the Nexus' second floor. Ostrava followed behind her silently, head bowed slightly and his dark thoughts brewing a storm in his mind. Alvira sensed the change in his demeanor as she prepared her bedroll in one of the Nexus' many corners.

"What ails you, Ostrava?" she asked suddenly, jerking him out of his head for a moment. Her back was to him as she finished with the bedroll and set her weapons aside.

"I-I-…" he tried but could not find the words to voice his feelings. As always, Alvira waited patiently for him to respond. "I am a failure, Alvira," he finally managed after struggling for several moments. Alvira frowned and turned to him. "Ostrava, what do you mean?"

He averted his gaze from her, and his lips curled up in disgust. "I am a failure," he repeated more firmly.

"Why would you say that?" she asked quietly, though she could accurately guess that his misgivings were due to her recent death.

"I was unable to assist you when you needed me," he explained. "That demon killed you because of my blatant inability to defend myself."

"Ostrava, I've already told you-" she began, but was cut off by him.

"No, listen to me!" he exclaimed, balling his fists and visibly shaking with anger. Then, he let out a sigh and calmed himself slightly. "Alvira, I know what you told me. But I do not wish to be an instrument of your suffering."

Alvira had finished laying out her bedroll and was watching Ostrava discreetly out of the corner of her eye. He stood still for a moment before shaking his head and kneeling so that they could be eye level, though he was not looking at her.

"I cannot dispel the image of your death from my mind," he stated solemnly, "and I do not ever want to see you in that state again, Binding or no." He wrung his wrists nervously before continuing. "Alvira, I am no true warrior, and thus far I have been nothing but a burden upon you."

Before Alvira could protest, Ostrava held up a hand, sensing her response and ending it before it began. "That is why I wish to learn how to be a proper knight. Alvira, I implore you… show me the ways of the sword."

It had not been what she was expecting. She had thought maybe he intended to once more seek forgiveness for wrongs he did not commit, but this request took her completely by surprise. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself speechless. A moment of silence stretched between them before she gave her answer.

"I would be honored to teach you."

Ostrava beamed and made a small celebratory gesture that Alvira did not fail to notice. "Thank you; I shall not disappoint you."

Alvira nodded her head in acknowledgement, then motioned towards her bedroll. "We will begin in the 'morrow, but for now, sleep."

"But if I take your bedroll, where will you sleep?"

"Here." She pointed to a spot on the floor a few feet away from the bedroll. Ostrava closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor while I take your bed. And you need sleep more than I. I will occupy the floor."

"I insist."

"As do I." Ostrava took her hand between his and pulled her forward until she was standing above said bedroll. Alvira sighed, sat down, and began removing her armor. "Men are truly stubborn," she muttered under her breath, though Ostrava still heard her and chuckled to himself. Just when he was making to his designated sleeping spot, Alvira looked up from unbuckling her gauntlets and stopped him. "Wait."

He froze and turned his head to look at her. "Yes?"

"There is space enough here for the both of us," she said. "I'll petition Thomas for another bedroll in the morning; however, tonight, you should not be made to sleep on the ground."

Now, Ostrava could feel his cheeks burning. "That is not necessary," he said quietly.

"I insist," she repeated firmly.

Knowing it was an argument he would not win, Ostrava reluctantly returned to the generously sized bedroll and sat down beside her. She had finished removing the last of the plates from her body and now wore only the form-fitting blue and silver linen she adorned beneath her armor. Alvira looked at him curiously as he sat completely still. Her voice made him jump when she finally spoke.

"Ostrava, take off your armor; you'll not get any rest that way."

He stiffened and held in a breath for a few moments before being forced to release it. Finally, he grudgingly abided her request and began to slowly remove his own plates. Alvira rolled over to the side to face away from him as he did so and pulled her woolen blanket over her body, snuggling comfortably into the bedroll. She had fallen halfway to sleep when she felt Ostrava pushing himself slowly underneath the covers, attempting not to disturb her. She pretended not to notice as he got himself into place and turned to face away from her. Sleep eluded him for a time as the anxiety of their nearness clutched him, but eventually, he was wearied enough to fall into a sleep that was the best he'd had in a long while.


	6. I Will Return

Ostrava wasn't fully aware that he was on his knees in front of a gigantic, demonic spider. He didn't even consider the fact that he had been screaming so loud that he had torn his throat. The forefront of his focus was her, Alvira, whose lifeless body was sliding slowly down the Armor Spider's foreleg, leaving a generous coating of blood and viscera behind. He felt numb. He felt just as hollow and empty as she now was. He had failed her. She had died because of his ineptitude. He was next, but it no longer mattered. Everything was futile without her by his side.

His screaming didn't cease. His ears began to bleed. He clutched the sides of his head and roared his despair and hopelessness to the heavens. Alvira's body sagged to the ground in a heap as it separated from the Armor Spider's leg. The demon chittered and purred to itself contently as it brought its head low and chelicerae forward. Its jaws opened wide and were about to clamp down on its fallen prey when a vortex of white light surrounded her. Her body disintegrated before their eyes, momentarily leaving an empty suit of armor behind. Then the light began to pour into the armor's crevices. The Armor Spider was temporarily indisposed as the light blinded it, thrashing about uselessly above the eerily glowing figure as it slowly rose to stand. Ostrava had finally stopped screaming and could only stare through teary eyes as it leisurely approached Alvira's discarded halberd and took it in hand.

The Armor Spider was screeching and flailing its legs violently and all eight of its eyes were rolled askew in agony. The apparition now haunting Alvira's armor – for that was all Ostrava could think it to be - turned to the demon, took the halberd and brought the blade down viciously on the beast's head. It bounced off the demon's reinforced plating, but it still let out a wail and withdrew slightly. The ghost rose and twirled the halberd above its head before bearing down again at a slightly different angle and got the same result. It repeated the process several more times and the demon's throes became increasingly frantic with each strike. It spat a few fireballs at the luminescent figure, albeit uselessly as the spider's erratic movement threw its aim wide off the mark and only managed to singe some of its own defensive webbing. When this failed, the demon reared forward suddenly and brought its front legs down on the accursed creature; it rose its halberd defensively and whirled the weapon adroitly, deflecting the beast's strikes away from it and causing the demon to recoil with a screech that sounded almost… frightened. The cornered beast made another desperate attempt to dispel its attacker, and with lightning speed struck its legs outwards, using them like pikes. The apparition wasn't fully prepared for the sudden onslaught, only managing an awkward defensive stance that saw it being pushed backwards away from the demon, albeit with intransigence.

When the beast pulled its legs back, the apparition rushed forward, holding its halberd as one might an executioner's axe with a victim on the block, and brought the honed blade down once more. It caught its halberd in an open slit of the spider's armor and hooked the weapon behind the demon's head. It squealed the loudest Ostrava had heard yet as it instinctively tried to twist itself away. Its resistance only served to be of its own detriment, the opposing force assisting the revenant as it pulled the halberd back vigorously. The spider screeched and burbled as its head was slowly separated from its body. It dug its front legs into the ground and pulled back harder, feebly attempting but miserably failing to dislodge the weapon from its exoskeleton. The apparition stood resolute, digging its armored heels into the ground to root itself firmly in place. Pale blue blood began to flow from the Armor Spider's wound to the ground, creating a deep, sticky puddle around the apparition's armored feet.

The gruesome tug-of-war went on for several minutes until the apparition gave one last, potent yank and the Armor Spider's pain-filled cries were brought to a precipitous end. Its head came loose from its body and fell into its own pool of blood with a gut-churning _squelch_. Its body immediately followed, plunging to the ground in an entangled mass of legs and webbing.

Ostrava blinked slowly as he gazed upon the ghostly form, now standing forebodingly over the corpse of the demon. A white light, though darker than the one from before, swirled around its body before dissolving slowly into the shining augite on its belt, making its light shine all the brighter. Understanding began to dawn on Ostrava as he watched the familiar ritual. After a few tense moments, the apparition turned to him and stared wordlessly.

"A-Alvira…?" he managed to stutter out weakly. His voice came out shaky and unsteady from his mangled throat.

The incandescent being walked towards him and smoothly placed the halberd on its back as it did so. Fear momentarily ignited within him and he took a couple of steps back before he realized what he was doing. He stopped himself and let the ominously glowing figure approach. It regarded him for a moment before reaching up and pulling the helmet from its head.

Ostrava blanched. It _was _her. Only now she was without flesh. He was staring into the face of Alvira's bodiless soul. Her once warm and inviting eyes seemed bitterly cold as they bored, unblinking, into his. He recalled the soul from the Nexus and the words he'd spoken. He hadn't truly believed all of what he'd said, but now one of his statements was undeniable.

'_We cannot even escape their clutches in death, for they have bound our very souls…_'

This was all his fault. She had sacrificed herself to protect him, and even after death, she had risen again and spared him a similar fate. He reached for her slowly and his chest tightened as he was overwhelmed by the gravity of what he had done. He had to apologize for his cowardice; had to make this right somehow. He simply would not be able to abide by himself if he did not.

He fell to his knees before her, and without thinking, yanked his helmet from his head and tossed it aside. Up to this point he had been trying to remain discreet, but right now none of that mattered to him. He needed for her to be able to look upon him as he looked upon her. He bowed his head, took her hand, and squeezed his eyes shut as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He clenched her palm tightly in his and he pulled on her arm, asking her without words to kneel with him.

Alvira did so and studied his face closely. It was the first time she had seen him without a helmet. He had dark, rich chestnut-colored hair that hung slightly in his eyes and down to his shoulders. His face was broad and chiseled, accented by sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. His lips were thin and only barely darker than the pale white of his skin. He had a dark bruise under his left eye where his helmet had impacted with his face when they had fallen and there was dried blood coming out of his ears. Other than that, he had only suffered some minor scratching.

She gingerly reached forward and caressed his face with her cold, armored palm. Ostrava started and opened his eyes. As Alvira investigated their deep, blue depths, she felt as if she was being slowly drowned in an ocean of apathy. Slowly, another tear escaped; she caught it with her thumb and gently wiped it away.

"It's okay, Ostrava," she said quietly, her voice reverberating softly around them. The last of his tears fell, but he shook his head in defiance of the words she spoke.

"No…" he rasped, struggling to force the words from his throat. "No. You died because of me."

She smiled at him. The expression did little to change the coldness of her eyes. "Ostrava, this isn't the first time I've experienced death, and it likely won't be the last."

His eyes widened and he stared at her, but amidst his puzzlement, he could find nothing to say. She continued.

"As a demon slayer, I was never expected to be able to face the hardships that I do without encountering death. Demons wield immeasurable power; it would be foolish to task a lone human to hunt them without some sort of protective measures in place."

"I… I do not understand, Alvira," he croaked.

Without another word, she released her hold on him and removed her left boot. She set it to the side and showed him her ankle. Encircling her ghostly form was an iron binding, much like a shackle, engraved with unfamiliar symbols that glowed dimly in the surrounding darkness. Again, his mind flashed briefly to the man in the Nexus. He had worn one of these as well.

"This is a Nexial Binding," she explained as she slid her boot back onto her foot. "It ties my soul to the Nexus and prevents it from being taken when I'm inevitably killed."

"So… you are immortal?" he asked, though doubt was present in his tone.

At this, she shook her head. "No. This blessing is extended to me so long as I serve the Monumental."

Ostrava remained silent for a moment, feebly attempting to maintain eye contact, but ultimately succumbing to his shame and looking away. Alvira swept a wayward strand of hair from his face, earning her a brief sidelong glance from the self-loathing knight.

Suddenly, he felt her pulling on his wrist, urging him to rise. He did so lethargically, letting the weight of his guilt bear down freely upon his shoulders. They stood in silence for a moment, and Ostrava could feel Alvira watching him. Eventually, he could stand it no longer, and their gazes clashed again. Alvira ran her palm up to his shoulder and grasped it reassuringly.

"Do not despair for me, Ostrava," Alvira began. "This is the path I have chosen, and I willingly accept its conditions. By my hand, these demons will fall, and should my body fail, by my blessings I will return anew until my task is complete."

Though the words were not borne from his own mouth, Ostrava nearly choked on them. They warmed him; made him undeniably sure that Boletaria would be spared and the evildoings of the demons could be undone. Hope filled his heart, replacing the heady misery that had been plaguing him. A smile crossed his lips as her words threatened all his ills, effectively keeping them at bay.

"Thank you, Alvira," he whispered to her. "Truly."

* * *

When they returned to the Nexus, Alvira went to visit Baldwin to inquire about the damage done to her breastplate. Ostrava decided to stay behind for a much-needed moment of respite. He took a seat at the base of the Archstone of the Small King, leaned against it, and closed his eyes. He was physically and mentally exhausted, and his muscles hurt from tension. He rolled his shoulders, stretched out his legs, and sat in silence for a while. It was only when he heard a quiet rustling that he cracked one of his tired eyes open.

Staring down at him was a woman wrapped in a strange black cloth, wielding a long staff with a candle on the end. A scratchy cry of surprise escaped him, and he involuntarily threw himself against the archstone in an attempt to back away. The woman remained still as a statue. Upon further inspection, Ostrava realized that the woman's eyes were occluded by wax and sewn around the edges.

"God, you scared me," he breathed harshly. The woman said nothing and only tilted her head curiously at him.

"Can you speak?" he asked after a few more seconds of silence. No response was given. He was beginning to feel quite awkward and uncomfortable under the apparent scrutiny of the woman. Thankfully, Alvira chose that moment to return and the woman's focus shifted to her. She had left her breastplate with Baldwin and was now only adorned by the rich blue and silver undershirt she wore beneath her armor from the waist up.

"Greetings, Slayer of Demons," the woman said to Alvira in a delicate, oddly accented voice. Ostrava sighed to himself. If she could speak, why had she not responded to him?

"Greetings," Alvira reciprocated. "I see you've met Ostrava."

At the mention of Ostrava, the woman fell silent again. Ostrava's shoulders slouched. First, the Monumental had ignored him, and now this one was, too. The feeling of insignificance was quickly growing on him.

The woman broke through his brooding thoughts when she spoke to Alvira again. "Dost thou seek soul power?"

Alvira nodded and knelt before the woman. She placed her hand on Alvira's head and began a slow chant. Ostrava was too enraptured with the scene before him to hear the words she spoke. He watched in utter amazement as Alvira's form returned to flesh and the souls she had collected thus far flowed forth from her augite and swirled around her before stretching around her skin and seeping into her pores.

The woman's chanting was mesmerizing to Ostrava in an otherworldly way, but it ceased soon enough, and she carefully slid her slender palm from Alvira's head. Alvira rose to her feet, now human once again, and bowed to the woman. She did not return the gesture, but rather asked her, "Dost thou require further assistance?"

"No," Alvira replied. "Thank you."

The woman said nothing more and turned away from her to make her way up the stairs, relighting candles along the wall that had recently blown out. Once she was out of earshot, Ostrava looked to Alvira. Feeling rather perplexed, he asked "Who was that woman, and… what did she _do_ to you?"

Alvira took a seat next to him, then said, "I do not know her name, but to everyone here, she's known simply as the Maiden in Black. She has the power to manipulate souls, and thus uses the souls I bring her to make me stronger."

Ostrava's mouth fell open, and for a moment all that left him were incoherent babbles. Finally, he managed to say, "I see… so she must be quite powerful."

Alvira nodded. "She is indeed."

"Why are her eyes covered with wax?"

To this, Alvira shrugged. "I'm not sure. I do not know much about her. She is an enigma even to the Monumental."

"Have you tried asking her?"

"Yes, but she won't answer any questions regarding herself. But I do not sense antipathy or ill-will from her." Alvira thought for a moment. "In fact, I find her to be quite benevolent and empathetic, even if she doesn't show it very well. But enough of that. How are you faring?"

Ostrava winced as he remembered the aches and pains that he was still feeling. "Not terribly, though I could use some rest."

"Very well. I will fetch you my bedroll and you may rest here. I shall be with Sabrathan should you need me."

Ostrava nodded as he relaxed against the archstone. He folded his hands in his lap and shut his eyes, and soon he was wading in and out of slumber. After some minutes, Alvira returned with her bedroll and laid it out for him. He tucked into it and attempted to get comfortable. However, there was something at the back of his mind keeping him from succumbing to sleep. The awful image of Alvira's moment of death, the emptiness in her eyes when he had faced her soulless form – these things seeped uncomfortably into the darkness behind his eyelids. He tried to ignore these thoughts, pushing them off into a far corner of his mind as his desperation for sleep grew, but each time he was on the edge, they would return. Flustered that sleep would elude him for now, he sought to answer some of the questions burning in his mind.

He eyed the discorporate man from afar, still sitting on his perch above the Nexus' seal. Ostrava sighed to himself before forcing his tired and battered body to stand. He stretched and glanced at the man again, realizing his focus was now directed towards him. It was as good an invitation as any, he supposed.

Ostrava approached the man, his gaze never leaving him as he did. The man's eyes were just as dead as Alvira's had been, he noted, but his soul glimmered more faintly than hers had – a murky off-white, whereas hers had been bright to the point of being blinding. Ostrava briefly wondered at that until the man addressed him.

"And what do you want of me this time?" he sighed. "All I desire is to be left alone. Is such a simple request to be denied me?"

"I was hoping to ask you some questions," Ostrava started, ignoring the man's lamenting.

"As I recall, you had little interest in what I had to say," the man scowled.

Ostrava looked at him directly then, eyes piercing. "Perhaps I do not agree with your evaluation of Alvira, but for the rest I am in the dark. Please."

The soul sighed and dropped his head. "Oh, so be it…"

"What is your name?" Ostrava asked.

This question threw the soul off-guard, and he frowned. "Why does that matter?"

"Because I would like to know the title of whom I speak to, and perhaps, be your friend should you allow it. Will you not tell me?"

The man looked away from Ostrava then, sadness sneaking into his otherwise featureless face. "No," he stated flatly. "I will not."

"Why is that?"

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed between them, until finally the man answered, "Because I don't remember."

Ostrava furrowed his brow in confusion. "How do you not remember your own name?"

The man scoffed, irritation flaring within him. "I don't remember anything of my life before this. Over time my memories have fled me."

"How is that possible?"

"I've remained in this state for far too long," he said, gesturing at his ethereal form. "Each day that passes, I find more of myself withering away."

"Oh…" was all Ostrava could think to say. "I am sorry."

"I'm not. I do not wish to remember. This is all there is now." The man swept his hand around the Nexus for emphasis. "The world won't survive the demons' transgressions a second time."

"But how can you believe that?" Ostrava asked, slightly appalled by the man's faithlessness. "How can you just give up?"

At this, the man seemingly bristled, and a fire ignited in his eyes. "Have you come only to torment me, or do you have real questions?" he spat. "If not, begone!"

"I-" Ostrava began. "I apologize. "Can you tell me something?"

The man only grunted in response.

"What is it like… to die?"

The soul looked at Ostrava out of the corner of his eye before answering, "That depends on how you die."

"How did _you_ die?"

"A demon killed me, of course," he said matter-of-factly. "I was lured here by the Monumental and my fate was quickly sealed by a big, fanged, ferocious beast."

"Was it… painful…?" Ostrava asked hesitantly.

"Yes. I was torn limb-from-limb before the monstrosity crushed my skull like an over-ripe fruit." Ostrava flinched and felt his stomach lurch at that description. "Then I woke up here, like this. The Monumental tried to manipulate me, telling me that humans awoke the Old One again and that I was required to put it back to sleep. But that's not possible; knowledge of Soul Arts was wiped from the earth by them ages ago. They started dabbling and _they_ awoke the damned thing, not us humans."

The man went quiet for a moment and pinched his nose. "After dying like that, they expected me to just go out there and do it again and again. Meanwhile, they can't even tell the God damned truth." At that, he faced Ostrava fully, eyes boring into his. "Take this to heart, lest you be damned like her – Alvira is a pawn. That is all she will ever be to the Maiden and the Monumental, and whether she succeeds or fails, it matters not so long as they are our masters."

Ostrava's mouth formed into a thin line as he took in the dead man's words. "Surely, we, as men, have something to gain in the destruction of these demons. Why do you believe the Monumental and the Maiden to be insincere? They have taken on the task of cleansing our world so that we may thrive; is that not noble?"

"'Noble?' Pah! We are only cleaning up the mess that they have caused," the man said through gritted teeth. "And it _will_ happen again so long as they remain."

"Enough of this; I have not come to debate," Ostrava retorted irately.

"Then leave me! Your presence has grown wearisome."

Ostrava rolled his eyes and rose to leave. He said nothing more to the cynical soul as he walked away. He felt thoroughly frustrated as the closed-off man had failed to answer any of the questions that ailed him and had only exasperated him with his rhetoric.

_The poor fellow is quite mad, indeed; perhaps that is another side effect of his condition_, Ostrava thought to himself as he turned carefully on his heels and strode away. Though in the back of his mind, the sympathetic side of him hoped that by defeating the demons, the wretched soul could be freed from his troubles at last.

More exhausted than he had been before, Ostrava returned to Alvira's bedroll and laid himself down gently. He tossed and turned for a while, images of Alvira's death haunting his mind until eventually he drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

When Alvira spotted Brother Sabrathan, he was predictably in his corner skimming through one of his various tomes. When he eyed her approaching over the rim of his book, he smiled broadly.

"Welcome back, Lady Knight! I have been looking forward to your return!"

"Greetings, Brother Sabrathan," she said as she took a seat in front of him. "I was curious to know if you could teach me offensive miracles?"

"Would that I could, dear Knight, but I am afraid that is not possible." He frowned as he bent the corner of the current page in his book and promptly shut it. "I cannot do so because the thing you request does not exist."

Alvira quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "Truly?"

"Indeed! For, you see, miracles were not designed to harm, rather to protect and mend."

Alvira nodded in response. "I understand, Brother Sabrathan." She pulled her talisman from her pocket and studied it silently for a moment before she continued. "Then may I ask what you advise I learn next?"

"Hmm," he started as he reached back for one of his tomes and flipped through the pages. He exclaimed a quiet "Aha!" when he found the page he was looking for and handed the tome over to Alvira. "Perhaps this will do?"

On the page Alvira read the words "Hidden Soul," followed by instructions on casting the spell. She skimmed over the page for a few moments before lowering it and nodding to Sabrathan. "I foresee many scenarios in which this could be useful."

Sabrathan flashed a smile at her and held up his talisman. "Then, shall we begin?"

* * *

Ostrava awoke some hours later, feeling little better than when he had finally managed to fall asleep. He stretched his arms and legs before carefully standing. The Nexus was quiet and dim as most of its residents had retired for the night; the only sound he could make-out was the faint pattering of the Maiden in Black's bare feet upon the marble floor as she extinguished some of the candles. As expected, Alvira was nowhere in sight.

"Must still be with Brother Sabrathan," Ostrava muttered to himself as he neatly rolled up the bedroll and made for Sabrathan's nook. As he rounded the corner, he saw Sabrathan sitting upon his blanket with a raggedy-looking tome in his hand. He was smiling to himself, but Alvira was not with him. He looked about curiously as he walked towards the older man.

"Hail, Sabrathan!" Ostrava called.

The acolyte redirected his gaze towards Ostrava, smile never wavering. "Greetings, lad! How may I be of service?"

"I was merely wondering if you have seen Alvi-" Ostrava started as he walked closer. When he was within touching distance of Sabrathan, Alvira materialized in front of him, sitting cross-legged and looking up at Ostrava with a pleased expression. Ostrava yelped and fumbled backwards, barely managing to remain upright.

"What on God's earth?" he cried hoarsely. Alvira couldn't contain her laughter as she looked into Ostrava's bewildered eyes. Sabrathan's grin broadened and he let out a deep chuckle.

"I do believe you are quite adept with this miracle, Lady Knight," Sabrathan said as he clapped Alvira on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Brother Sabrathan!" she replied giddily.

"I-, wha-, how…?" Ostrava stammered before he finally managed a more coherent "Where did you come from?"

"I've been here the whole time!" Alvira laughed. Ostrava did not appear any less perplexed.

"You see, my dear boy, whilst you were resting, I have been teaching the lady a new trick," Sabrathan explained. "It is known as 'Hidden Soul;' which is a miracle devised by Temple Knight assassins that conceals the caster's body as well as their soul energy, making them nearly undetectable. The lady has learned this spell with particular efficiency."

Alvira smiled at that. "I am honored by your words, Brother."

"And I am honored to be your teacher." Sabrathan bowed his head to Alvira, who returned the gesture in kind. Ostrava stood before them awestruck, gazing upon Alvira reverently.

"I do believe that will be all for tonight, Lady Knight," Sabrathan spoke. "I am afraid I have grown quite weary. Do excuse me."

"Of course; goodnight, Brother Sabrathan." Alvira stood from her sitting position, offering Sabrathan another slight bow before turning away. Sabrathan held up his hand in response but was busying himself by packing away some of his tomes and preparing his bedroll.

Alvira and Ostrava made their way back to Baldwin and collected her armor. The old man was still awake, tinkering with a sword, but offered to help her equip it, which she readily declined; she gave him a curt nod and a "thank you" in turn before heading up the stairs to the Nexus' second floor. Ostrava followed behind her silently, head bowed slightly and his dark thoughts brewing a storm in his mind. Alvira sensed the change in his demeanor as she prepared her bedroll in one of the Nexus' many corners.

"What ails you, Ostrava?" she asked suddenly, jerking him out of his head for a moment. Her back was to him as she finished with the bedroll and set her weapons aside.

"I-I-…" he tried but could not find the words to voice his feelings. As always, Alvira waited patiently for him to respond. "I am a failure, Alvira," he finally managed after struggling for several moments. Alvira frowned and turned to him. "Ostrava, what do you mean?"

He averted his gaze from her, and his lips curled up in disgust. "I am a failure," he repeated more firmly.

"Why would you say that?" she asked quietly, though she could accurately guess that his misgivings were due to her recent death.

"I was unable to assist you when you needed me," he explained. "That demon killed you because of my blatant inability to defend myself."

"Ostrava, I've already told you-" she began, but was cut off by him.

"No, listen to me!" he exclaimed, balling his fists and visibly shaking with anger. Then, he let out a sigh and calmed himself slightly. "Alvira, I know what you told me. But I do not wish to be an instrument of your suffering."

Alvira had finished laying out her bedroll and was watching Ostrava discreetly out of the corner of her eye. He stood still for a moment before shaking his head and kneeling so that they could be eye level, though he was not looking at her.

"I cannot dispel the image of your death from my mind," he stated solemnly, "and I do not ever want to see you in that state again, Binding or no." He wrung his wrists nervously before continuing. "Alvira, I am no true warrior, and thus far I have been nothing but a burden upon you."

Before Alvira could protest, Ostrava held up a hand, sensing her response and ending it before it began. "That is why I wish to learn how to be a proper knight. Alvira, I implore you… show me the ways of the sword."

It had not been what she was expecting. She had thought maybe he intended to once more seek forgiveness for wrongs he did not commit, but this request took her completely by surprise. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself speechless. A moment of silence stretched between them before she gave her answer.

"I would be honored to teach you."

Ostrava beamed and made a small celebratory gesture that Alvira did not fail to notice. "Thank you; I shall not disappoint you."

Alvira nodded her head in acknowledgement, then motioned towards her bedroll. "We will begin in the 'morrow, but for now, sleep."

"But if I take your bedroll, where will you sleep?"

"Here." She pointed to a spot on the floor a few feet away from the bedroll. Ostrava closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor while I take your bed. And you need sleep more than I. I will occupy the floor."

"I insist."

"As do I." Ostrava took her hand between his and pulled her forward until she was standing above said bedroll. Alvira sighed, sat down, and began removing her armor. "Men are truly stubborn," she muttered under her breath, though Ostrava still heard her and chuckled to himself. Just when he was making to his designated sleeping spot, Alvira looked up from unbuckling her gauntlets and stopped him. "Wait."

He froze and turned his head to look at her. "Yes?"

"There is space enough here for the both of us," she said. "I'll petition Thomas for another bedroll in the morning; however, tonight, you should not be made to sleep on the ground."

Now, Ostrava could feel his cheeks burning. "That is not necessary," he said quietly.

"I insist," she repeated firmly.

Knowing it was an argument he would not win, Ostrava reluctantly returned to the generously sized bedroll and sat down beside her. She had finished removing the last of the plates from her body and now wore only the form-fitting blue and silver linen she adorned beneath her armor. Alvira looked at him curiously as he sat completely still. Her voice made him jump when she finally spoke.

"Ostrava, take off your armor; you'll not get any rest that way."

He stiffened and held in a breath for a few moments before being forced to release it. Finally, he grudgingly abided her request and began to slowly remove his own plates. Alvira rolled over to the side to face away from him as he did so and pulled her woolen blanket over her body, snuggling comfortably into the bedroll. She had fallen halfway to sleep when she felt Ostrava pushing himself slowly underneath the covers, attempting not to disturb her. She pretended not to notice as he got himself into place and turned to face away from her. Sleep eluded him for a time as the anxiety of their nearness clutched him, but eventually, he was wearied enough to fall into a sleep that was the best he'd had in a long while.


	7. Infernal Depths

"Argh!" Ostrava yelped as Alvira once again knocked his sword loose of his grasp. She twirled on her toes gracefully, bringing her halberd back around to her front before quirking an eyebrow at the thrice disarmed knight. He fumbled momentarily before meekly gathering his weapon from the floor, shoulders slouched in a defeated stance. Alvira clicked her tongue disapprovingly at him.

"Have confidence in your abilities or you will be less apt to learn," she scolded, albeit gently. Ostrava sighed and grumbled something incoherently under his breath. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. He took the battle stance Alvira had shown him prior to beginning his lesson.

"No," she started. "Your posture is off again." She laid down her halberd and adjusted the angle of the elbow and wrist of his sword arm. "Hold it there," she instructed before returning to her spot and readying her weapon.

"Now, attempt to hit me." The last word had barely left her mouth before Ostrava was upon her again, pummeling at her side fiercely. She parried the blow with her halberd and once more sent the knight's weapon flying from his grip. Ostrava looked sullenly to the ground where his weapon had landed and huffed, "This is hopeless. I cannot even begin to land a strike upon you."

Alvira relaxed her weapon and cocked her head at him. "Do you wish to end the lesson?"

"No," he carped.

"Then stop pouting."

"I am not pouting!" he rebutted with an obvious pout. Alvira chortled lightly, causing his pout to deepen. "Do not laugh!"

"I'm sorry," she responded, attempting to reel in her amusement for the sake of his pride, but ultimately failing. "Perhaps we should take a different approach," she suggested after collecting herself.

"How do you mean?"

"I'll try to strike you, and you defend. Ready?"

"I-"

"Now!"

Alvira was assaulting him with speed he never could have anticipated; he had just barely managed to raise his shield before the Temple Knight's weapon impacted with it, denting the weak metal before, much to Ostrava's chagrin, knocking it from his palm. "Oh, come on!" he groaned as he threw his hands up in frustration. Alvira walked over to his shield, plucked it from the ground, and examined the material. She took it in both of her hands and applied pressure, barely straining her muscles before it gave and bent further. She shook her head and turned to Ostrava, stating, "This weapon set won't do. They would be useless in a real fight."

"These are very sentimental to me," Ostrava argued.

"What do you value more, your weapons or your life?" she asked. To this, Ostrava visibly deflated. "As I figured."

"And just what do you propose I do? I have nothing else."

"I'll request a new weapon and shield for you from Boldwin. Until then, this lesson is adjourned."

Alvira handed Ostrava his damaged shield, then turned away and fastened her halberd in its clasp as she started down the stairs. He watched her go until she disappeared from his sight, then redirected his attention to his damaged shield. He held the metal in his hands the same way Alvira had, testing it, and was surprised when it gave in to the very slight force he administered. He frowned as he tested its weight, only now realizing it _was_ rather light. His sword was much the same. How he had thought this weapon set would be effective when he had initially chosen it was now beyond him. He reluctantly put the equipment away and followed Alvira's path down the stairs. He hoped he'd put up a better fight with more reliable steel in his grasp.

* * *

While Ostrava was panting, sweat dripping down his face and neck, Alvira was showing no signs of fatigue. With his new sword and shield ready, they had resumed his training and were now nearly an hour into their session; and while it was tiring work, Ostrava felt invigorated in both mind and body. Perhaps it was the protection his new weapons offered bestowing on him a sense of serenity, or even the fact that after so short a time he was seeing improvements (slight though they were), he wasn't sure, but he reveled in the feeling. As Alvira held her halberd high and hammered it down upon him, he almost reflexively raised his shield above his head, taking care not to bend his back unnaturally or strain his wrist in anticipation of the coming collision. He caught the blow, the metal clanging loudly together as he put forth the strength to deflect the weapon. Alvira spun on her heels, her halberd twirling in her hands as she repositioned it and thrust the sharp tip of the weapon at him like a spear. The maneuver caught him off guard and broke through his defense, slicing through his gambeson, though not deep enough to penetrate his skin. Alvira twirled and brought her weapon back around as Ostrava dropped his sword and shield and placed his hands on his knees in a show of exhaustion.

"I yield," he panted.

Alvira smiled and holstered her weapon. "You're learning quickly. Though I would suggest you keep your attention first on your enemy's hand. That way you're better able to read their movements. Given more practice, I daresay you will make a mighty warrior, Ostrava."

While Ostrava wished to take pride in her comment, he simply could not. He grimaced and met her eyes, feeling they were far too benevolent for the likes of him. He didn't think it possible, but her smile became ever warmer, and for a moment he allowed himself to bask in the radiance she shone. Her emerald eyes seemingly cradled his soul, and to his very core he felt a flash tranquility. How this woman could have this effect on him, he didn't know, but it only served to dredge up his own feelings of inadequacy. He knew that without her, he'd have succumbed to the Scourge just like all the rest had. Reflecting that he should be the one to receive not only her assistance, but quite frankly her mercy, brought him pause.

"No," he said at last. "This is not nearly enough. I will not be satisfied until I can hold my own. Until I am no longer a burden to you."

"Ostrava, you are _not _a burden," she argued.

"I am," he said stiffly. "But by my honor, I shall not remain so."

Alvira sighed resignedly, deciding that, for now, this was an argument she could not hope to win. "Come," she said. "I can see that you're barely standing. Rest: we can pick this lesson up another time."

"As you say." He followed her up the stairs on shaky legs, and when he reached his new bedroll (courtesy of Thomas), he all but collapsed into the feathery material.

"Ostrava, perhaps you should-" Alvira began, but halted abruptly when she heard his evened breathing laced with the slightest snore. She laughed to herself and began removing her silver plates. She dared not disturb the knight to remove his armor; after all, he seemed comfortable enough. She fluffed up her old straw pillow, grabbed a tome from her nearby pack, and tucked into her own bedroll, though she didn't get too far into her studies before her mind was clouded with troubled thoughts. She wished that her companion could see his worth and that he wasn't so quick to berate himself. He was a damaged man, that much was easy to see, but he certainly was not deserving of his own harsh criticisms. She said as much to God as she knelt in silent prayer, all but pleading to Him that He give her the tools necessary to mend him, just as she intended to mend the world.

* * *

After a day's rest, Ostrava felt well enough to continue their descent into Stonefang. Alvira recovered much more quickly from vigorous training sessions than she used to, she noted, no doubt a byproduct of the Maiden imbuing her with the power of the souls she gathered. Though necessary, the thought of consuming souls sickened her. Her faith had always taught her that the soul was sacred; that when one died, if their soul was yet good, that God would bring it to His kingdom to live eternally without the strife that plagued the living. To deny these souls their dues felt truly abhorrent, but the alternative was far worse. She prayed that by slaying the Old One and Its demons that her sins might be justified in the end.

As Alvira touched the second archstone, the warm glow of the many candles lighting the Nexus faded to black. The familiar sounds of Stonefang, of pickaxes striking stone and hammers tinkering delicately against metal, filled her ears; the smell of fire and iron likewise filling her nostrils. Barely an inch of earth could be seen amidst of the glow of her augite, but the resolve to carry on was absolute. She wrung the handle of her halberd in her hands to keep her nervousness at bay, then took the first step forward into the darkness. Ostrava followed behind her with his hand on her pauldron, eyes skittering back and forth anxiously in search of unseen enemies. As they advanced, the sounds of mining labor became more distant until it could barely be discerned from the clanking of their armor. Eventually, the pair came to a deep mining shaft in which a dim light could be seen leaking onto the ground, barely illuminating the bottom. They skirted the edge slowly and cautiously, not wanting to lose sight of the pit should they accidentally stumble into it.

Though, in the end, their efforts were for naught, as they had unknowingly caught the attention of a wandering scale man. He crept up on them stealthily, and when he saw them flirting with the precipice of the abyss, he struck. The crazed man pushed Ostrava in the back, easily unbalancing him, and he went plummeting downwards into the mouth of Hell, screaming at the top of his lungs.

While Alvira's reflexes were inhumanly fast, in this instance she had allocated a hundred percent of her focus on the yawning chasm in front of her. She tried to grab for Ostrava before he fell, only managing to scrape the tips of her fingers against his back before he was beyond her reach. She yelled after him, her mind frantic, fearing for the worst: that he would fall all the way to the bottom and there was absolutely nothing that she could do. Behind her, the momentarily forgotten scale man groaned and shuffled towards her. She gripped her halberd tightly in her hands and thrust the weapon in the direction that the sound had come from with enough force that it went through his midsection and out through his back. The madman died instantaneously, and she flung the corpse roughly into the shaft to dislodge it. Then everything went strangely quiet.

"Ostrava?" Alvira yelled into the pit, uncaring in the moment who or what heard her. There was no response. She tried again, louder this time, but still there was no answer. Had she been in her right mind, she may have reconsidered her next course of action; however, she was not,and took no recourse for herself as she jumped into the pit.

* * *

He could hear her voice calling for him, distant as it was, but he didn't have the air in his lungs to call out for her in turn. While Ostrava hadn't fallen far, he had landed directly on his back, which had effectively knocked all the wind from his lungs. Blood burbled in his throat, threatening to choke him if he didn't cough. He was fairly certain that his shield arm was broken, judging by the odd angle that it was bent at the elbow, though strangely it didn't hurt nearly as much as he would have imagined. Eventually he hacked all the blood from his throat and lungs and his breathing evened out into a pained wheeze. Darkness surrounded him almost completely but for what little light emanated from the depths below. His thoughts felt scattered and he was sporting one hell of a headache from where his head had struck the ground.

It was then that he heard a familiar jangling sound approaching him - the sound of armor and chainmail. He let out a rickety sigh of relief. Alvira had found him and was coming to help him. He'd had no doubt in his mind that she would find him; knew in his heart that she wouldn't leave him to die down here.

"Oh d-d-d-dear, what has happ-p-pened?"

Ostrava's relief gave way to fear and his blood froze in his veins. Whoever was coming towards him was _not _Alvira. As the footsteps got closer, his heart pounded harder and his collapsed lungs ached as he feebly tried to gulp down air. He was well and truly done for now.

He felt the air around him shift as a strange figure knelt down beside him. He opened his eyes but had to squint as his vision was filled by light. Above him was a strange, white-haired man clad in light steel armor and wielding a frighteningly large fireball in his hand, undoubtedly the source of the light. Ostrava looked the man in the face and his dark brown eyes snapped to his own. His gaze was anything but malevolent, and despite not knowing the stranger, Ostrava found himself settling down. The man frowned deeply as he skimmed over Ostrava's body, surveying his injuries. He grabbed his broken arm gently and turned it slightly in his hands, causing Ostrava to wince and grunt in pain. Then he reached for his visor and flipped it up before Ostrava could protest. When the man looked at his blood-streaked face, he grimaced.

"M-my, my, what a p-p-pity this is," he said as he shook his head. "You must be in a g-g-great deal of d-discomfort, yes?"

Ostrava didn't have the strength, or the lung capacity, to respond, but it didn't seem like the man was looking for reciprocation anyway. He placed his free hand on Ostrava's chest, and he was immediately filled with the sensation of warmth and amenity. His headache abated almost immediately, and he could feel the skin around his open cuts knitting back together as well as the aches in his contusions weakening. On his next intake of breath, he inhaled a gratifying amount of air, the impression of a great weight upon his chest lifting. The pain in his arm left through his fingertips as broken bone redressed. Satisfied with his work, the man removed his soothing hand from him and took the wrist of Ostrava's previously broken arm in his palm. He tested the arm, bending it to the left and the right before laying it carefully across Ostrava's stomach with a nod of approval.

"Well now, f-f-f-f-feel b-better?" the man asked.

"Yes… thank you…" Ostrava rasped tiredly as he propped himself up on his healed arm. "But may I inquire as to just who you are?"

"Ah, yes, h-how terribly rude of m-me!" The man rose to his feet and offered Ostrava the hand not currently manipulating that menacing ball of flame. Ostrava accepted it and awkwardly clambered to his feet. "I am S-Scirvir the Wanderer. I seek t-t-treasures of the unknown."

Ostrava raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, then remembered that his visor was still open and promptly shut it. The man, Scirvir, chuckled at his response.

"Yes, yes, I've g-g-gotten that look quite a b-b-bit. Though I c-can't argue that it may be warranted. Y-you think me crazy for c-coming out here with the goings-on, n-no?"

Ostrava nodded.

"W-well, unlike many others, I d-do not let f-f-fear control me. I adapt. I'd not have made it this f-far without doing so."

"I suppose that is fair enough, but what could possibly be here that is worth risking your life for?"

"I do n-n-not know. B-but I heard rumor of a t-t-temple here, buried d-deep within the ground. It only seemed n-n-natural to c-come and investigate."

"You are quite mad," Ostrava deadpanned, echoing the man's earlier sentiment. Scirvir grinned mischievously.

"C-come now, h-have you no sense of adventure?" he joked.

"No, only a sense of duty."

"Which b-brings me to q-question your reason for being here."

Ostrava tensed and looked at the man warily. He was still smiling at him. Scirvir didn't seem dangerous to him now, but if the short time he had been traveling with Alvira had taught him anything, it was that things may not always be as they appear on the surface.

"My business is my own," he replied at last.

"A-ah, not one f-f-for s-sharing, I see. Just as well."

Scirvir turned away from him and started down a wide tunnel. He snapped his fingers and the flame he had been holding extinguished, but at the end of the tunnel, Ostrava could see a campfire burning brightly now that its light was unimpeded by the man's sorcery. Scirvir made his way towards it and settled down, holding one hand out towards the open flame while scrambling around in a worn leather satchel with the other. From it, he produced a stained white cloth, which he unfolded to reveal a bunch of herbs. He picked one out of the bundle, admiring how it glinted in the light of the fire, before bringing it to his mouth and biting into it.

"Are you h-hungry?" he called to Ostrava. He couldn't deny that he was, loathe as he felt about accepting food from this stranger. Though if the man had any plans of killing him, he'd of had an easier time accomplishing it without first healing him. With a resigned sigh, Ostrava walked towards the campfire and seated himself opposite of Scirvir. Scirvir handed him an herb as he chowed down on his own happily. Up close, Ostrava was able to identify the glittering golden plant as full moon grass. This discovery, at the very least, put his fear of poisoned food to rest, and he ate in companionable silence with Scirvir. Yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn't quite shake the fear that something bad had happened to Alvira. He prayed silently for them to be reunited soon.

* * *

Alvira landed with a _thunk _on a wooden platform, the planks groaning against the impact. Thinking on it, she surmised that she had probably fallen about twenty feet. She found the stony wall of the pit, put her back to it, and scooted carefully against it to stop herself from unintentionally falling further. It was then that, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the image of light flowing from the mouth of a tunnel. She inched closer, eventually coming to the end of the wooden platform. The light had exposed a cliff jutting from the wall. She was able to estimate the distance and concluded that it was safe for her to jump. With that, she positioned herself at the edge of the platform and pushed off with as much power as she could. She fell further this time, but still managed to land on her feet with nothing but a residual ache in her knees and shins.

To her right, she heard somebody gasp. She instinctively reached for her bow, nocked an arrow, and had it aimed expertly at the offender before realizing who she was targeting.

"Alvira!" Ostrava exclaimed elatedly. The knight was running towards her at break-neck speed, and narrowly avoided barreling into her before skidding to a halt.

"Ostrava, you're safe!" Alvira dropped her bow, letting it clatter to the ground as she opened her arms and hugged Ostrava tightly. He leaned heavily into her touch and squeezed her to him tightly. She rested her head against his shoulder and let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding. "Thank God, I was so worried!"

"As was I for you…"

They held their hug for a bit longer, each of them savoring the moment, before separating. That was when Alvira noticed the other man behind Ostrava, sitting before a campfire and looking over at them curiously. Alvira tensed and began slowly reaching down for her bow.

"It is okay, Alvira," Ostrava whispered reassuringly, noticing her distress. "This man assisted me after I fell."

Alvira kept a wary eye on the figure as she collected her bow, though she didn't sling it away. "Is that so?"

"Indeed. He was even so kind as to tend to my injuries."

That answered the question as to how he was in such good condition after tumbling such a long distance. The man made eye contact with her as they scrutinized each other, but made no move to unsheathe his weapon. Never lowering her guard, Alvira and Ostrava made their way over to the fire. Ostrava took a seat, picked up a half-eaten piece of grass that had been discarded in his haste to see Alvira, and resumed eating it, all the while ignoring the staring competition happening between her and the unknown figure. Soon enough, he broke eye contact and redirected his gaze to the fire in front of him. The gesture did little to relax her. It was difficult for her to fathom why anybody would come to a place like this willingly. Also, the fact that he had managed to heal Ostrava meant that he was proficient in at least the art of miracles, yet his garb and demeanor spoke of no affiliation to the Temple. His presence was suspicious and rung every warning bell in her head.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name is S-Scirvir," he stuttered out.

"Why are you here?"

He snickered and waved a dismissive hand at her. "N-n-now, now, there is n-no need to interrogate m-me. I am no th-th-th-threat to you."

It was then that Alvira eyed the peculiar talisman he was holding in his left hand. It looked like nothing she had seen before; the image it was carved into was definitely not one of God, but rather a twisted representation of the Tree. Her eyes narrowed. He was a worshipper of false icons. God save his soul.

"I'll be the judge of that. Answer me."

Scirvir sighed. "I am a s-s-simple t-treasure hunter."

"You traveled all this way for materialistic pursuits?"

"I did."

"Are you aware just how dangerous this place is?"

"I've been told it is d-dreadfully so…" he said sardonically.

"You'll likely die here should you decide to stay."

"Oh, I d-d-do believe I can manage. I've made it this f-far, have I not?"

Alvira shook her head. The man was greedy, so much so that he came to a demon-infested mine on the mere promise of finding riches. _There is little I can do to reason with him_, Alvira mused. _Best not waste any more time_.

But while there was something unnerving about Scirvir, she could not deny the fact that he had saved Ostrava's life, and she was not somebody to deny credit where it was due. "Thank you," she stated at last.

"For?" She turned her head to Ostrava, and he understood. "Oh, you are q-quite welcome," he replied cheerily. "Always h-happy to help someone in n-need."

Her next words were directed towards Ostrava. "We need to get going."

"So, we do," he said grimly as he stood and rolled his shoulders. He had caught on to the mood and was almost as eager as her to depart, but offered a respectful bow to Scirvir, who nodded at him in turn whilst never taking his eyes from the fire. The duo turned and walked away, though Alvira kept tabs on the stranger out of the corner of her eye. A short distance away lay the edge of the cliff, but the light of the fire illuminated many more platforms below. The only way to go was further down. Without a word, Alvira gripped Ostrava's hand and led them off the cliffside.

* * *

Fortunately for Ostrava, the last few falls had been manageable, though he was sure he'd be adorning more than a few ugly bruises by now. The bottom of the pit was within falling distance. Below, the floor was littered with ancient-looking bones, most of which were broken, but for a massive ribcage that remained intact. The sight of it sent shivers down Ostrava's spine, unbid images of monstrous creatures coming to mind that could have possibly possessed bones so large. Alvira pulled him gently forward by his arm, putting them at the edge of the wooden walkway before they took the plunge.

Alvira landed eloquently on her feet, but Ostrava's knees buckled beneath his weight when he landed, sending him to the floor. He groaned as Alvira pulled him upright. "I shall be glad when this endeavor is finished," Ostrava grumbled to himself. Alvira nodded her head in silent agreement.

Then, she felt shaking beneath her feet.

"Get back!" she shouted, all but throwing Ostrava behind her, where he once again lost his balance and toppled to the ground. The shaking became worse until the earth opened up underneath her. She managed to jump away just in time as a gigantic rockworm erupted from the fissure and lunged at her. Bow already in hand, Alvira nocked an arrow and aimed it at the thing's head, landing a direct hit. The rockworm screeched and wriggled furiously, causing her next arrow to miss. However, the creature was unable to recover before another arrow pierced its head, causing it to fall harshly to the ground. Content that it was dead, Alvira eased herself and helped Ostrava up from the floor.

"Wow…" Ostrava mumbled under his breath. Alvira followed his eyes and gasped when she laid eyes on the source of his wonder. Before them was a large archway constructed of bone, reaching high into the wall of the pit. Beyond the archway, a large stone temple wreathed in flame descended into the earth. A statue of a large dragon sat near the temple's entrance, acting as a sentinel guarding the ruins.

Alvira beckoned for Ostrava to follow her, and he did so without ever taking his eyes off the temple; he was utterly fascinated with it. But, as they approached, a thunderous growl erupted from the its depths. They froze, watching as a creature emerged from the flames. Fiery claws reached out between the pillars of the temple's upper floor, clasping one in each hand, and violently wrenched them apart, causing a small cascade of rock and rubble to spill to the ground below. It emerged out onto the balcony and hastily dropped down, the earth trembling as it landed. The creature was large and bulky, its spiked and armored carapace prominent in its own luminescence. Its face was little more than a large, misshapen skull with horns reaching out horizontally from either side of its head. Small red eyes could barely be made out amidst the flames surrounding it, slitted dangerously at Alvira. Then, with a mighty roar, the demon lunged at her.

Within a split second, the Flamelurker was upon her. Ostrava dove out of the way as the two danced back and forth. Alvira had drawn her halberd and was swiping at the demon furiously, trying to keep the beast at bay. The blade of her weapon scraped across the demon's chest, trails of fire following its path along its hardened skin. The Flamelurker largely ignored her attacks, charging her and swiping its claws left and right rapidly. She managed to keep it at arm's length, albeit barely, as continued her own assault. A particularly deep cut caused the Flamelurker to grunt but did little to slow it down. It just kept coming at her, putting her in a state of constant defense as she backpedaled away from the fearsome creature. She had no doubt that if the demon managed to strike her, it'd shred through her armor and skin like a hot knife through butter. Even from the distance she was at currently, she could feel the intense heat emanating from the its body.

Deciding to opt for distance, Alvira quickly put away her halberd and unslung her bow. For a moment, they circled each other as Alvira nocked an arrow and set it loose. The shaft and feathers briefly caught flame before piercing the demon right in the eye socket. It roared in pain as the arrow disintegrated. Alvira took the opportunity to hurl another arrow, managing to lodge it in the Flamelurker's chest before it, too, eroded and fell away as ash.

The demon screamed, flaming spittle falling from its maw as it charged her again. But the demon caught her off guard as it slammed its claws into the ground, enticing a violent explosion. The blast barely missed her, but the aftershock pushed her backwards, leaving her open momentarily for an attack. The Flamelurker raked its claws at her, driving into her chest and ripping through her silver plate with ease. She was thrown off her feet by the sheer force the demon exerted and landed on her back several yards away, though she managed to keep a firm grip on her weapon.

Ostrava regarded the back-and-forth exchange anxiously until Alvira was flung into a prone position. The demon wasted no time and stormed her as she was rising, but Ostrava already had his sword and shield drawn and was rushing the demon in turn. He was through being afraid; Alvira needed him now and he'd be damned if he watched her die again.

Ostrava made it to the demon before it reached Alvira. He swung at the beast viciously with his long sword, grazing deeply along its side. It howled in agony and whipped around to face him, a barrage of claws coming at him as he swiftly backed away with his shield raised. Now the demon was on him, pivoting left and right, up and down, at a frenzied pace. At this point, Alvira had recovered and began unloading her quiver into the Flamelurker's back. It growled and snarled as each arrow pierced its hide before it turned on its heels and ran at her again. Ostrava trailed quickly behind it and hacked at its legs as it went. The demon whirled suddenly on him and delivered a swift uppercut, tipping the knight off balance, then grabbed one of his ankles. It held him in a vice-like grip, nearly crushing the delicate bones as it lifted him and smashed him into the dirt. Upon impact, Ostrava went under, a silent scream etched into his face. The demon pummeled him with its fist once, twice, before Alvira's own scream hit its ears and a magnificent volley of arrows bombarded it.

With as many arrows as Alvira had loosed into the demon's carapace, she imagined that it would have looked like a pincushion by now if they hadn't burned away. But the damned beast just kept coming no matter how many times she struck it and it showed no signs of fatiguing any time soon. It roared ferociously and pounded the ground a few times, causing a rapid succession of explosions to flare. Bits of flaming rock went flying in every direction, forcing her to duck and weave expertly between them to avoid being struck. She skirted away outside of the blast radius, more arrows pelting the Flamelurker as she went. Soon it was chasing her again, but this time it was gaining on her. A flurry of claws and teeth was unleashed upon her, and she narrowly avoided having her hand bitten off by the beast as she was aimed an arrow at it. She shot the Flamelurker directly in the mouth while its jaws were still open, causing the demon to release a loathsome wail, blood and fire dripping profusely from its jaws.

Alvira was panting both from exertion and from the heat of simply being so close to the Flamelurker; she felt as if she was being baked alive inside her armor. The demon wouldn't be able to endure this treatment forever, she knew. She just had to keep going until the bloody beast finally was felled.

Then, suddenly, the Flamelurker stalled. It fell to the ground on its hands and knees, and for a moment, Alvira cheered until the fire engulfing it burst forth, increasing the expanse of its malignant aura. Its flames burned brighter to the point that it was almost blinding, completely consuming the demon's features and leaving nothing to the eye but a crescending inferno. It surged at her then, easily tearing through what was left of her silver armor and rendering it useless. The Flamelurker assailed her again, headbutting her and grazing her leg with a sharp horn. Alvira screamed as the opened flesh sizzled and burned at the demon's touch; she was knocked backwards through the air, landing hard on her side and skidding through the dirt.

Before Alvira could react, the Flamelurker was barreling towards her on all fours. It reached for her and snatched her up in its claws, dragging her towards it. Vicious snarls and growls rang out from the demon's throat as it bit and scratched at her. Having no shield, she was forced to defend feebly against the Flamelurker's onslaught with her halberd. This strategy proved to be ineffectual, earning her several more harrowing bites and scratches. At this rate, the demon was going to end her quickly, but her determination to protect her companion won through. When the Flamelurker reared its head back for another bite, Alvira poised her halberd offensively and jabbed the weapon into its skull as its head descended downwards. The beast halted and cried in torment, clutching its head and flailing left and right, dragging Alvira along the ground with its movements. She managed to dislodge the weapon and brought the blade down on top of its head, cutting its screams short as its skull was split in two. She was showered in blood and gore as it sprayed forth from its open cranium. Her stomach squirmed in disgust as the demon's now extinguished body fell upon her, but she quickly pushed it off and rolled to her feet.

Not sparing another moment, Alvira ran to Ostrava's accumbent form. She dropped her halberd as she crashed to her knees beside him but was quickly consoled by the sound of his quiet breathing. He was alive and didn't appear to be too terribly injured. Alvira offered a quiet thanks to God for keeping him safe before she swept the comatose man up in a bridal carry. His head lolled to the side against her chest and she smiled. She was incredibly proud of him. He had faced his fears and fought admirably against their toughest opponent yet. The warrior's spirit was undoubtedly within him.

She opened his visor and caressed his cheek gently with her thumb. At that moment, Ostrava let out a soft sigh and nuzzled his face further into her chest. She smiled to herself, savoring the occasion before a familiar voice jerked her from her reverie.

"That was q-quite an impressive display if I do s-say so myself."

Alvira's body went rigid and she swerved her head in direction of the voice. Scirvir was standing scant inches from them, looking down at her with a hint of barely concealed amusement on his face.

"You followed us," she growled.

"So I d-d-did. And I am glad, for I have f-found what I s-s-sought." He inclined his head towards the looming stone temple. "And I must say, this is a magnificent s-spectacle. Even b-b-better than I imagined!"

Alvira frowned deeper and reached for her discarded halberd with her newly freed hand. The action did not go unnoticed by the ever-observant explorer. "There'll be n-no need for th-that."

She said nothing as her knuckles turned white around her weapon. Scirvir turned away from her and strode confidently towards the temple, muttering something about dragons and bones under his breath. Just then, Ostrava came to and groaned, softly shaking his head back and forth.

"What happened?" he asked. "Where is the demon?"

Unable to peel her eyes from Scirvir, Alvira offered a distracted "Dead."

Ostrava gritted his teeth and glared forlornly at the ground. "I have failed you yet again."

His words snapped her attention back to him completely. "What?" she asked, confused.

"Once more I prove I am incapable in combat. I was removed from the battle just as soon as it was started." He made a fist and beat the ground a few times in his anger. "Damn it, why must I be so wholly inept? Why am I so _weak_?"

He looked to Alvira beseechingly, then, his eyes seeking forgiveness in her own. "I am so sorry, sincerely, I am. Alvira, I-"

She shushed him by placing a slender finger to his lips. Shock overtook his features as she leaned in close, almost too close, and whispered, "You were incredibly brave." His expression softened as their eyes locked, and though the moment was filled with silence, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Then the instant faded, and reality came rushing back to them by way of Scirvir's incoherent ramblings.

Alvira glared at him out of the corner of her eye. Ostrava followed her gaze and was surprised at what he found.

"When did Scirvir get here?"

"Recently." She watched as the enigmatic man clamored on to himself about his discovery, making wild gestures with his hands, though she was unable to make out the words from this distance. Ostrava obviously sensed her malcontent with his company, because he proposed that "He poses no danger to us."

"I don't trust him. He is a user of tainted magic, of _Soul Arts_," she nearly spat.

Ostrava then attempted to stand, only now realizing that Alvira was holding him in such a way that a man would hold a rescued damsel. His face burned with embarrassment, though he was thankful that Alvira was not looking at him as he discreetly closed his visor and slipped from her grasp, rising to stand. After taking a second to regain his composure, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Do you not suspect that he would have shown his animosity to us already had he intended it? He healed me when I was in need of aid and did not make to attack you when you arrived. He has had ample opportunity to show his cards, and I do believe he has."

His words offered her only a semblance of solace, but she willed some of the tension coiling her body to be released. "Perhaps you're right."

"Just talk to him. He may prove to be a valuable ally."

Alvira smiled at him and nodded her acknowledgement. "Thank you, Ostrava."

"Thanks are not necessary. Now, shall we go?" He offered his arm to her then and she laced her own through it. They walked like that towards the animated man and the temple, Alvira's worry draining from her in the face of her misgivings. Scirvir was still talking to himself and was midsentence when they were within earshot. They heard utterings of a "Dragon God" and "ancient weaponry," piquing Ostrava's interest.

"What is this you are on about, Scirvir?"

The man nearly jumped out of his boots when he spoke. "E-gads, d-d-don't sneak up on me like that!"

"What were you saying just now?" he tried again, effectively ignoring his warning.

"Ah, yes, this ap-p-pears to be the T-T-Temple of the Dragon God that I h-have heard so much about. Though the locals have long b-believed the dragon to be d-d-dead, many still came t-to make offerings to their d-d-deity. One of t-those offerings was the temple itself, b-built around the corpse of their lord. B-b-b-but the scale men were ever afraid of angering their g-god, so fail safes were constructed s-should the d-d-dire need arise that the Dragon God be s-slain.

"N-now, whether or n-not that story is true remains to be seen. I h-have also heard, however, th-that the dragon's bones exude a most p-p-precious and invaluable ore. One of the main reasons I've c-c-come here is to collect this substance, as it-t is t-t-truly one-of-a-kind."

Ostrava was entirely captivated by the man's story while Alvira felt an overwhelming disgust. Here was a temple dedicated to the worship of a false god, not only in-tact, but she'd go so far as to say it was 'well-maintained,' when she had witnessed the destruction of temples of the one True God back in her homeland. She felt personally affronted for these transgressions against her Lord and eyed the intricately carved stone of the pretender with the utmost disdain.

"Alvira?" Ostrava asked from the entryway, standing next to an awestruck Scirvir. She hadn't even noticed they'd moved.

"Come, explore with us." He held out his hand welcomingly. Alvira grinned despite herself and went to him, allowing herself to be led further inside by the two men, though she couldn't shake the looming feeling that a great evil dwelled within.


	8. An Angel Below

"I c-can't believe it! It's here, it's r-really here!"

"What have you found?"

While Scirvir and Ostrava were busy rummaging around the temple ruins, Alvira had taken to leaning against a sturdy pillar. She couldn't be more disinterested in the false deity's domain, only sparing a passing glance to the glyphs carved into the wall and hissing through her teeth in disgust at the depictions of blasphemous worship drawn there. Furthermore, her suspicions of the vagabond, Scirvir, were only worsening as his fascination with said deity became more apparent, though she was hardly surprised seeing as the man carried a false icon in his very own pocket. He was an ignorant buffoon to put his faith in such things, and while Alvira (barely) tolerated his continued presence, her patience was beginning to run thin. Not only was the man an imbecile, but he was detracting precious time away from her that could be better spent slaying demons. Half of this excursion was also the fault of Ostrava's blatant curiosity, though she couldn't find it in her heart to be upset with him the same way she was with Scirvir. She had certainly developed a soft spot for him, that much couldn't be denied.

"What is _that_ ghastly thing?" Alvira heard Ostrava ask from a few feet away, though he was out of sight for the moment.

"This is the f-famous D-D-Dragon Bone Smasher I've heard t-tale of! Can you b-believe it? A blunt instrument s-s-supposedly designed to crush the b-bones of d-dragons! Why, it is c-completely and utterly useless!"

Alvira scoffed, though neither of the men heard her.

"… Pardon?"

"Ahhh, isn't she a b-beauty?" Scirvir sighed happily.

Alvira's own curiosity finally got the better of her despite her prejudices towards the eccentric fellow, and she removed herself from the wall to go see what all the fuss was about. And what a sight to behold: a baffled Ostrava was staring at Scirvir, or more so at the weapon he was holding, which was a sword almost the size of the man himself. It was a gargantuan thing, reinforced steel charred black around the edges from the heat it had endured, sculpted into the shape of a bone. It appeared to be of an immense weight, Alvira noted. It was a testament to Scirvir's strength that he was able to hold the weapon up so easily. He had it propped against his shoulder as he gazed at it sidelong.

"Perhaps I am missing something, but…" Ostrava continued. "What is the significance of such a weapon?"

"Absolutely nothing!" Scirvir exclaimed. Ostrava slouched his shoulders, his bewilderment seeming to manifest as physical weight upon him.

"I do not understand you," Ostrava murmured. Scirvir ignored the comment, too enraptured by the candidly hideous weapon he was holding. The ridiculousness of it all only further fueled Alvira's opinion that the man was irreparably unhinged. She would be thankful when he finally departed from their company.

Ostrava and Scirvir continued to banter back and forth, but Alvira became distracted when a low growl permeated her ears. She turned her head towards the noise, but it was so low that it was barely audible. Glancing back at the two men, neither of them seemed to be notably bothered or otherwise aware that any sound had been made. She frowned to herself, taking care to block out their chatter, and listened more closely. It was very faint, but the growling noise was _definitely_ there. Ostrava paused in his conversation with Scirvir when he noticed Alvira's cautious stance. He held up a finger to hush Scirvir's babble.

"Alvira, what is the matter?" he asked worriedly, but she was so focused that she didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken to her.

Then, that barely audible growl turned into a deafening roar. Ostrava screamed and Alvira and Scirvir simultaneously twisted themselves around to face the lava-filled chasm the temple had been built around. Out of the chasm erupted the biggest beast that Alvira had ever seen; the monstrosity stood a staggering one hundred feet, its wings unfurling impossibly long in either direction. The Dragon God locked on to them all with its six glowing red eyes, releasing another furious roar at the intruders to reveal two sets of fangs that were as long as they were tall. A spiked fist came into view as the Dragon God wound it back, then it crashed through rock and stone, completely obliterating the temple surrounding it. The shockwave sent all three of them flying backwards, out of reach of the demon's fury, until it otherwise decided to abandon its confines.

"Lord have mercy, what is that monster?" Ostrava panicked. Alvira was completely at a loss on how to deal with such a menacing beast. Forget the fact that she couldn't even begin to venture within the demon's vicinity, but just looking at its armored skin, she knew both her halberd and her bow would be similarly useless against this titan of muscle and sinew. Suddenly, she felt a dark rage flare up inside her towards the Monumental and the Maiden in Black; how could they have set her up to a task as impossible as this? This thing would pound them all to dust while barely having to lift a finger. Imbued with souls though she may be, nothing would ever make her strong enough to bring down something like this. This thing made the Tower Knight look like a newborn kitten. Which brought her to question how she could ever hope to defeat the Old One if this was the state of Its prime demons.

She was doomed to fail before she had even begun.

Then Ostrava screamed again, and she found herself jumping between him and the Dragon God's gigantic fist, grabbing him and throwing him out of harm's way before her body was crushed beneath the demon's insurmountable strength. Death came immediately, and the all-too-familiar blackness consumed her before the Nexial Binding activated and placed her soul precariously above her bloodied and mangled corpse. Being forced back into her shell only for it to fade was always a surreal experience, but she didn't have time to think about it now. If she didn't get Ostrava out of here, he was not going to survive.

"Ostrava!" she shouted, garnering the frenzied knight's attention. She threw a shard of archstone at him, which he managed to catch despite his state of turmoil. "Get out of here! _Now!_"

"Bu-"

"_GO!_" she clamored, then he was gone. With Ostrava safe, she could at least focus on figuring out some way to bring this demon down.

When she heard Scirvir groaning, she growled inwardly to herself. Much as she disliked the man, she didn't wish to see him consumed by this lumbering atrocity. She rushed over to him, shoving an archstone shard forcibly into his hand.

"Leave," she demanded unkindly.

"The failsafes…" he sputtered weakly. "Use the-"

Another earth-shattering roar was followed by a hard punch which they were luckily out of range of.

"What are you talking about? What failsafes?"

"The Burrowers… t-they constructed failsafes-" His speech was interrupted as he coughed up copious amounts of blood. She didn't have time to heal him; if she delayed much longer, he was going to be dead. She closed his hand around the shard she had placed in it and coaxed its power forth. He faded away quickly. Now that there was nobody in her way, she could get to work hunting down the failsafes he had mentioned. She hoped beyond hope that these weren't just the insane ramblings of the crazed man he had thus far proven himself to be.

* * *

"God damn it!" Ostrava cursed as he pounded the Burrower's archstone. "_FUCK!_"

He had never been so furious in his life, nor had he ever felt so worthless. Once more, he was powerless and at the mercy of beings far greater than him. She was dead _again_ because of him, and furthermore, she was stuck in the pits of Hell itself with an unfathomably strong demon. He couldn't be more mediocre if he tried. She needed help now more than ever and there was absolutely, unequivocally nothing that he could do.

By the time he'd started to settle down, he heard panting and the ruffling of robes behind him. He turned partially to watch the commotion play out. Sabrathan, the Maiden in Black, and Thomas were surrounding a very beaten and bludgeoned Scirvir. Sabrathan hastily yanked his talisman from somewhere within in his robe and pulled the dying man close, free hand placed on his chest. A swathe of radiant light engulfed them both and all Scirvir's visible wounds healed over. He promptly came to, frantic eyes darting back and forth before he relaxed, realizing that he was safe.

"Th-thank you," he stuttered weakly to the cleric. Thomas offered him a waterskin and some herbs, which he greedily consumed.

"What in God's name happened to you?" Sabrathan asked.

"D-d-demons…"

At this point, Ostrava pointedly ignored them all. He was too consumed in self-hatred and concern for Alvira to give a care for Scirvir's predicament. A pettier side of him even blamed him for recent events. Why he had thought it was a good idea to go into that temple was far beyond him; he'd only been asking for trouble. And Ostrava, fool that he was, got caught up in it all and naively followed him into it. _Stupid, stupid…_

"That won't help, you know," a familiar voice drawled. Great, just who he _didn't_ want to see right now.

"Leave me be," he growled to the crestfallen warrior, not even bothering to look at him. He just continued to batter his fist into the archstone, unconcerned that it was now bloodied and broken in many places.

The soul grabbed said fist and halted its momentum before it crashed against the stone again. "You are sounding far too much like me right now," he said mirthlessly. Without thinking, Ostrava swerved on his feet, pulling the soul off-balance, and used his other hand to punch him on the cheek The soul recoiled and instinctively grabbed at his face, but pain failed to bloom where he'd been struck. Just another reminder that he was still dead.

"You punch like a woman," he said through a grin.

"If that woman is Alvira, then I am honored by your inclination," Ostrava retorted.

"Oooh, that was _almost_ clever!" the soul chided back.

Another growl rumbled deep in Ostrava's chest and he glared at the insolent man maliciously. "I am in no mood for your snide remarks. Leave. Me. Be."

The crestfallen warrior sighed and placed a gauntleted hand amicably on the distraught man's back. "She'll be all right, you know," he offered.

Ostrava flinched. "How do you know that? What if she never comes back?"

The soul tapped his Nexial Binding in response.

"… Right," Ostrava sighed. His disposition softened, if only a bit, but he felt little better knowing the condition of prolonged periods as a mere soul. He didn't want to see Alvira suffer as this man was clearly suffering. He didn't want to see her suffer _at all_. Why couldn't he just be of more use? She shouldn't have to carry her burdens alone. She deserved a strong and capable partner, someone who could help protect her. Unfortunately, that seemed to be a role he just couldn't fill no matter how hard he tried.

"None of that, now. Get a grip," he heard the crestfallen man say. He only then realized that he had started crying.

God, he was an absolute caravan wreck.

He yanked his visor up, forcefully wiped away the treacherous tears falling down his face and shut it again before he was further embarrassed by his condition.

"That's better." He grimaced uncomfortably at the man's comments. He wished that he would just shut up already. Luckily, he did just that, allowing Ostrava to pull himself together. But all good things must come to an end, and his beautiful reticence was broken by Scirvir.

"H-how are you-"

"Do not. Just… do not."

Scirvir fell silent then, and Ostrava shouldered past him to make his way towards the stairs. Maybe he could just go to sleep and forget everything for a little while. His footsteps felt unusually heavy as he drug his sorry arse up the stairs. When he made it to the top, he was greeted by his and Alvira's little makeshift campsite. His bedroll lay in a crumpled mess while Alvira's was meticulously straight and tidy. He sighed as he threw himself down on the blankets. He tossed and turned for several hours, but sleep never found him, and he was kept company only by the inner critic that never seemed to stop telling him what a failure he was.

* * *

"God bless you, Sabrathan," Alvira praised under her breath as she swept through the Dragon God's temple. That miracle he'd taught her recently had been the solution she needed in this situation. Hidden Soul had concealed her entirely from the demon's eyes and she was able to move about almost completely unperturbed, though she still had to maintain an air of caution as the beast had a keen sense of smell. It'd sniffed her out once already and had retaliated accordingly, but she'd been able to get away just in time.

The temple was fairly straightforward, built more like a wall meant to act as a barrier than an actual temple. Once she had gone in further, she saw that it was mostly a large, singular hallway that branched off to the left and right at the temple's junction. All that lay in her path were a few collapsed pillars and rubble piles, which she easily navigated. She had chosen to go right first and was now approaching a small staircase leading upwards. The Dragon God was still searching for her, red eyes slitted and head bowed to peak through the pillars that were still standing. It let out a deep exhale as its snout passed her by, fiery breath eliciting waves of heat to erupt in the air. The demon growled, an explosive sound that shook the walls, and had she still had a beating heart it surely would have stopped. Ultimately, she managed to slip by undetected as it turned its head away to seek her elsewhere.

As she ascended the staircase, she was greeted by the sight of an ancient machine, the likes of which she had never seen before. It looked almost like a stone cannon, though its edges were squared where a cannon's would be round. She could see the tip of a spiked javelin peeking out of the device's barrel. So, it was perhaps some sort of ballista? She didn't know, but the details really weren't all that important; the only thing that mattered was that it worked.

There was a lever mounted on the back of the device that she wrenched back with so much force that it nearly dislodged. A mechanism activated in the ballista and shot the massive javelin forward. It pierced through the Dragon God's armored body with ease, nearly pinning it to the edge of the chasm. Large amounts of blood oozed from the entry and exit wounds, coating the left side of the demon's body so heavily that it looked like it had been painted. A screech erupted from its throat as it angrily bashed the ballista with its fist, leaving nothing but bits of stone behind. Alvira was caught by the strike before she could get away, and though she couldn't be seen, the noise her armor made as she tumbled down the stairs was an obvious give-away to her position. The Dragon God roared again and belched fire at her, charring her bright silver armor nearly black. Being a soul meant she couldn't feel pain, but each second the demon's fire washed over her, she could feel more of herself slipping away. She jostled to her feet and escaped stealthily; Hidden Soul had yet to wear off, so the Dragon God couldn't see her as it continued to torch the spot where she had been.

When the rain of fire finally stopped, the Dragon God did a once-over of the perimeter and seemed content that the threat was gone. It brought up its claw to its face and propped the elbow of its good hand up on the chasm, face in its palm and looking almost bored. She nearly felt insulted, but decided it was better that the beast wasn't tracking her anymore. Her energy was quickly draining the longer she held up the miracle, so time was of the essence. She assumed that ballista had been the falsafe that Scirvir had mentioned, and it certainly had done a considerable number to the Dragon God, but it hadn't been enough to kill it. Following that logic, she reasoned that there must be one on the other end of the temple.

She followed the hallway with haste, watching the Dragon God vigilantly to ensure that it wasn't alerted to her presence once more. She made it to another set of stairs leading up, and sure enough, a ballista was perched at the top. The shroud of her miracle was unveiling now as the last sliver of her power diminished. The Dragon God spotted her then and bellowed at her before rising to its full, terrifying height and poising to attack. She darted to the ballista and activated it before the demon could destroy it, and a javelin identical to the other fired and pierced it the same way the other had, pinning the demon down against the chasm forcefully. The ground trembled as it collided with the hard stone there, and the demon's weight was so immense that gigantic a crater formed beneath its jaw on impact.

The Dragon God still wasn't dead, but its life was theoretically over. It was so utterly trapped that it couldn't even open its mouth to scream; it could only let out deep gasps that set the air alight as it struggled to hold on to its last shreds of consciousness.

Alvira exited out of the temple's back archway and followed the chasm downward until she was face-to-face with the demon. It glowered at her and managed a weak growl. Alvira stared back and she almost felt her courage deteriorate before the pure malice she found there until she remembered that she was now in control of this situation. She watched as the light in the demon's eyes vanished, and when it finally died, they went completely dark.

She had done it. Against all odds, not only had she slain the wretched beast, but she'd come out relatively unscathed. She felt shame for the fact that she had doubted not only the Monumental and the Maiden, but God as well. He was always watching over her, keeping her safe and guiding her through the darkness. How many times had He protected her and Ostrava? She resolved from this point on to never allow herself to fall into faithlessness again.

An air of peace had settled around her when the Dragon God fell, and she sensed that it had been the last agent of the Old One here. All that lay ahead now was that bottomless pit of lava in which it had dwelled. This land was now clear of demons, but the Old One would undoubtedly send more to reclaim it if It was left unchecked. She had to slay It as soon as possible so that the world could finally be free if Its tainted influence at last.

With one last look into the glowing chasm, Alvira returned to the Nexus for some much-needed rest.

* * *

After failing to sleep for he knew not how long, Ostrava had resorted to practicing his swordsmanship. His proper sword hand was mangled beyond the capability to wield his weapon, so he'd taken to using it in his off-hand. He was clumsy and slow with it, but his dexterity was improving somewhat with practice. He was tired, sore, and frustrated, but he couldn't just sit on his thumbs and wait for something to happen, nor did he want to. He wanted to be a better fighter so that Alvira wasn't just dragging him along behind her like unwanted, extra baggage.

Several hours went by, and exhaustion was gripping him again, threatening to drag him down, but he refused to stop. He kept going until his muscles gave out on him, causing him to collapse to his hands and knees. He ached to the point that he could barely move, but he tried to stand anyway only to be pulled back to the ground. He groaned, more out of anger than pain. He didn't want to be as limited as he was, but there was little he could do but reach higher.

"Ostrava?"

He jumped from the sudden noise and snapped his neck to its source; Alvira was standing at the top of the stairs, looking at him with her head tilted to the side, asking an unspoken question.

"Alvira, I… you are back," he breathed out heavily. She ran over to him and pulled him up, but when his knees started to shake, she curled his arm around her shoulder and held him up.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" she asked.

He laughed softly. "To answer your questions in order, yes now that you are here, and no, I am not. Just trained a bit too much."

She had her doubts, which were confirmed when she slid her eyes down his arm and noticed the state of disrepair his gauntlet was in. She grabbed it, but quickly let it go when Ostrava let out a pained growl. "What's happened to your hand?"

"Nothing," he panted.

"It certainly doesn't appear to be 'nothing.' Take that thing off."

He did so hesitantly, and she gasped when she saw his fingers twisted and cut with dried blood seeping from his wounds. "Wha-"

"I do not wish to talk about it," he grumbled, looking away from her.

"Ostrava, if someone or something hurt you, I-"

"Leave it."

She didn't understand why he was suddenly acting so cold, but she retired the argument and went about healing his hand. He said nothing as she did; he only stared bleakly at the floor. When she was finished with his hand, she moved on to the rest of him so that he wouldn't be as tender. He only nodded his thanks to her as he pushed himself up and went to his bedroll. She sighed and did the same, then removed her equipment and laid down. Only when she turned away did he spare her a glance. She was human again, much to his relief. Then he remembered that she had faced the Dragon God all alone and won considering she'd returned. He'd been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't even asked her about it, if _she_ was okay; no, the moment she was back she'd tended to him instead and soothed his hurts when she must undoubtedly be wearied. Hell, they'd been traveling together all this time and he barely knew a damn thing about her.

He was an arse.

"Alvira," he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," she replied.

He took a deep breath in and fidgeted his fingers for a moment before he finally asked, "Where did you come from?"

She turned her head just enough to peak over her shoulder at him. "I'm from Stratham. It's an old, religious farming settlement up to the north."

"What was it like there?"

At this, Alvira rolled over and looked at him, resting her hand on her palm. "Boring. There was little to do, and because the population was so low, there weren't many children to play with when I was young. I grew up as an orphan in the Temple. Apparently, my parents had abandoned me there as a newborn and didn't bother leaving any sort of note."

"Oh…" he murmured wistfully. "How was life in the Temple?"

"It was lonely. Aside from religious teachings, the clergy had little to do with me. They provided well enough; I never went without food or a warm bath, but I still felt so… isolated." She turned her eyes down the floor and drew circles with her finger into the cold stone. "When I got older, I decided to take up the sword so that I could train to be a shield maiden. But it turned out that I was a pretty decent fighter, so they trained my offensive capabilities instead."

She paused then, and her eyes narrowed as she tried to recall more memories. "My trainer was the first person that ever paid much mind to me. He was an older man, old enough to be my grandfather, so when our bond grew strong enough that's what I started calling him. He'd never married or had any family of his own, so it seemed to endear him." She shook her head and let her eyelids fall shut, brow furrowed in concentration. "It's odd… I remember his face, but I can't seem to think of his name…"

"Perhaps it will return to you later after you have had rest."

"Perhaps…" she trailed off for a minute before continuing. "Anyway, eventually I'd whetted my skills enough that they inducted me into the Temple Knights. I served for a year before I came to Boletaria."

"Why _did_ you come here?"

"Before I departed, there was a man that came to us… a stranger. He informed the church of the Scourge in Boletaria and asked for aid. The clergy declined, saying that Boletaria must have invoked God's wrath for sins committed and that it was deserved.

"Of course, I was appalled, and testified to the clergy trying to make them reconsider, but they wouldn't hear me. The clergy wasn't made up of the most personable of folk, but I would never have imagined they'd turn away from this. They were fine to let thousands of innocent people die because they believed it was God's will, but I couldn't accept that. It didn't sound like God to me. God wouldn't have allowed demons to overrun the earth, to so utterly destroy everything He'd gifted to His children.

"No, that wasn't something I could bear, so I packed up my meager possessions and left. It was a two-week journey through the wilderness to get here, and when I finally arrived, I…"

She fell silent then, and a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. Ostrava started to wipe it away, but thought better of it and retracted his hand, consigning to watch her instead. She just let the tear be, and it fell to the ground where she'd been tracing circles earlier.

"The chaos… the destruction… the absolute madness. Never before have I witnessed so much death, so much pain, as I have seen here. I couldn't just let it go; I had to help, _somehow_…"

Any words that would have followed were choked off by a sob. Ostrava could stand it no longer and went to her, gathered her up in his arms, and held her close to him as she cried into his shoulder. She held on to him tightly, as if she would fall to her death should she let go. He stroked her neck and her back, trying his best to comfort her. He wished he had any words that might make it better, but he'd also seen what she had, and he knew there were none.

When the well dried up, Alvira let go enough to settle her forehead against his in an intimate gesture. Ostrava was still wearing his helmet, so it lessened the experience somewhat, but he leaned into her anyway. She sniffled a bit and opened her eyes, still brimming slightly with unspent tears.

"I can't just let the demons keep destroying everything. They'll consume the entire world if left alone. I won't let any more people go through what the Boletarians have."

Their eyes met, and within hers Ostrava witnessed a burning flame he'd doubt even the Dragon God could replicate. He brought her to him again in another tight embrace and rocked her gently back and forth. She sighed, and the tension gradually left her.

"You are Boletaria's guardian angel," he whispered at last. "And mine."

She laughed at that. "No, I'm not."

"You will not persuade me otherwise."

She giggled lightly, a sound like tinkling bells. Nothing more was said, and eventually they parted back to their bedrolls. Alvira scooted hers slightly closer, though not enough to touch. Ostrava removed his armor and they lay down facing each other until they both fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

**Author's note: **

Went ahead and posted twice to make up for the fact that I missed posting in March. Plus inspiration has been coming more frequently lately.

This chapter's a bit short, but I had trouble making the Dragon God encounter interesting. Hope I didn't botch it too badly.

Thanks, as always, for reading! :)


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